THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


CRAG-NEST. 

^.  Romance  of  the  Days  of  Sheridan  s  Ride. 


By  T.  C.  DeLEON, 

Author  of  "Four  Years  in  T{ebel  Capitals,'^  '''John  Holden,  Unionist," 
"Creole  and  Vuritan,"  "The  Turitan's  Daughter,"  etc. 


It  is  not  the  deeds  that  men  do.  so  much  as  the  manner 
of  their  doing,  that  set   their   impress   upon   an    era. 


MOBILE,   ALA. 

THE   GOSSIP    PRINTING   CO.. 

1897. 


/ 


copyrighted;  and  all  bights  reserved. 


TO 

THE   MEMORY 
OF   MY   LONG   AND   WELL-LOVED   FRIEND, 

Mrs.  price  WILLIAMS,  Jr., 

WHO   WAS   THE   INSPIRATION   OF   ALL   THAT   WAS   BEST   IN 

THE   WIFE,    MOTHER   AND   HOSTESS    OF    MY 

"puritan's   DAUGHTER," 

I   DEDICATE   THIS   BOOK. 


602809 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

1.  In  the  Winter  Siesta        ....  9 

II.  The  Old  Virginia  Home         ...  19 

III.  By  the  "  Daughter  OP  THE  Stars  "     -        -  27 

IV.  A  Bit  of  Sage  Advice           .        .        .  37 
V.  Under  the  Strain 49 

VI.  Varying  Visitations      .        .        .        .  57 

VII.  The  First  Quarrel 75 

VIII.  A  Portrait  Exchanged           .        .        .  85 

IX.  From  the  Opequon      -----  lOO 

X.  Beyond  the  Lines           -        -        .        .  m 

XI.  Home,  Farewell  ! 129 

XII.  How  Blood  Told 140 

XIII.  A  Morning's  Misadventures      -        -        -  152 

XIV.  The  Ride  with  Sheridan        -        -        -  165 
XV.  A  Richmond  "Starvation's"  Results       -  183 

XVI.  The  Torch  at  Crag-Nest        -        -        -  202 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/cragnestromanceoOOdele 


INTRODUCTORY, 


'TpHE  pseudo-philosopher  who  said  :  "  A  book  without  a  preface 
■*  is  a  salad  without  salt,"  plainly  valued  his  condiment  above 
his  comestible. 

The  latter-daj'  story  that  does  not  tell  itself,  will  gain  little 
from  the  Greek  "chorus"  preceding  it;  and,  equally,  he  who 
can  not  read  for  himself  does  not  want  a  book.  Yet  a  word  here 
may  point  merely  the  raison  (Tetre  of  this  romance. 

The  war  novel  proper  may  be  a  trifle  out  of  date  ;  one  class  of 
readers  for  it  having  largely  passed  awaj-,  while  the  other  has  not 
yet  mellowed,  by  reading  and  thought,  for  its  real  enjoj'ment. 
But  the  present  is  scarcely  a  war  novel  proper,  albeit  its  scenes 
concern  themselves  with  the  most  active  and  stirring  events  of 
that  most  exceptional  of  wars  —  the  struggle  between  the  states. 

The  object  of  my  "  Four  Years  in  Rebel  Capitals  "  was  not  to 
write  history  ;  only  to  give  a  truthful  and  familiar  view  of  the 
gradual  effect  of  the  wearing  strain  and  demoralization  of  civil 
war  upon  the  tone  and  character  of  a  people.  But,  in  that  book, 
very  much  had  necessarily  to  be  left  unsaid  ;  even  as  in  all  war 
novels  their  story  and  movement  force  aside  their  yet  more  im- 
portant idea.  Even  the  graphic  sketches  of  mj'  gallant  friend, 
John  Esten  Cooke,  were  given  without  pause  to  outline  the  result 
of  the  scenes  he  paints  with  virile  and  vivid  brush. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  a  romance  of  facts,  and  carrying  with 
it  their  result  —  making  result  as  it  were  the  hero  of  the  storj'  — 
might  bear  more  conviction  than  could  either  historj',  or  stor}-, 


8  PREFA  CE. 

separately.  So  I  took  a  typical  family  of  tlie  Valley  of  Virginia 
and  made  its  home  seat,  and  its  gradual  changes,  the  feature  of 
this  tale.  If  I  have  drawn  living  men  and  women,  the}'  will  do 
the  task  I  set  for  myself  ;  for  their  surroundings  are  familiar  ones 
to  the  time  and  the  localitj'  through  which  they  move. 

Portraiture  has  not  been  essayed  ;  though,  of  course,  known 
people  have  typed  the  characters.  Few  who  recall  him  will  fail 
to  see  the  lion-hearted,  yet  courtly,  old  colonel  of  the  First  Vir- 
ginia in  some  phases  of  him  a  kindly  critic  christens  "j-our 
Virginian  Colonel  Newcome  ;"  and  the  old  Valle}'  grande  dame  has 
a  hundred  prototypes  in  her  own  state. 

Perchance,  my  particular  Federal  general  never  rode  down  the 
Valley 

Witli  light  of  burning  roofs,  to  mark  his  cojirse. 

Still  it  is  true  that  such  wearers  of  the  blue  were  not  uncommon  — 
as  generous  foes  as  thej'  were  gallant  soldiers.  Carping  criticlings 
have  said,  ere  this,  that  ray  novels:  "Cater  to  Northern  patron- 
age, bj'  making  his  Yankees  heroes."  Their  shallowness  babbled 
by  this  underlying  truth:  they  detract  from  Southern  heroism, 
who  undervalue  the  men  the  South  fought  so  long  and  so  well. 

All  the  Cavaliers  did  not  ride  south  of  the  Potomac  ;  tlie 
grandest  Puritan  of  the  war  had  never  seen  Plymouth  Rock. 

With  so  much  of  preface,  I  leave  this  story  to  its  readers.  If 
its  people  be  not  of  flesh  and  blood,  then  no  words  of  mine  could 
give  it  "  pith  and  moment."  If  its  results  be  not  those  of  men's  — 
and  women's  —  acts,  it  will  relegate  itself  to  the  Leporello-list  of 
failures. 

T.  C.  DeLeon. 

Mobile,  Ala.,  May  15,  1897. 


CRAG-NEST. 


^  mamuntt:  nf  the  ^nvs  nf  SlrBridati's  ^tde. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN    TUE  WINTER    SIESTA. 

Those  were  gay  and  reckless  days  of  the  early 
war! 

The  harsh  hand  of  conflict  had  borne  as  yet  but 
lightly  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people  on  either 
side  of  the  Potomac;  though  there  had  been  suf- 
ficient of  the  pomp  and  panoply  of  war  to  stir  the 
prideful  ambition  of  both  sections.  But  its  grim 
and  ghastly  realism — so  well  known  later  as  to 
become  an  element  of  daily  life — had  not  yet  be- 
gun to  irritate;  far  less  to  fester  into  hideousness. 

Manassas  had  told  its  story  of  crude  assault 
and  dogged  reception;  a  fight — like  Chevy  Chase, 
"of  all  a  summer's  day" — of  green  troops  hurled 
against  raw  levies,  resistless — perhaps  intentless; 
of  swirl,  onset  and  blood,  ending  in  wild  rush  for 
the  Capital  and  timorous  expectancy  of  that  dread 
pursuit  which  never  came. 

Only  came  rest  on  arms,    desultory  watching 


10  CRAG-NEST. 

across  the  Potomac  for  weary  months,  as  Manas- 
sas Slimmer  reddened  into  autumn;  and  that,  in 
turn,  whitened  with  early  snows  the  mountain 
tops  of  the  as  yet  untrampled  Valley, 

The  first  winter  of  the  war  may  be  regarded 
its  moral  cocktail;  stimulant  to  expectation  and 
tonic  to  hope,  as  precedent  to  that  long  orgy  of 
blood,  happily  not  yet  set  forth  upon  its  menu. 

In  the  early  days  of  winter,  a  gay  and  thought- 
less party  of  younger  people  assembled  under  the 
grave  matronage  of  INIrs.  Cabbell  Courtenay  in 
her  Valley  home.  Crag-Nest,  time  out  of  mind 
the  manor  house  of  the  Courtenays,  had  ever 
swung  wide  its  hospitable  doors;  its  widowed 
mistress  clinging  to  traditions  of  her  own  race, 
and  basing  her  life-habit  on  the  memories  of  a 
husband,  whose  practice  had  ever  been  transla- 
tion of  the  Arab's  wordy  proffer  to  his  guest. 

As  the  red  glow  of  early  sunset  lingered  about 
the  brow  of  the  mountain  opposite,  its  reflection 
warmed  the  sloping  lawn  leading  to  the  home; 
and  the  low,  broad  porch  along  which  rapidly 
paced  two  young  girls.  Well  dressed  in  latest 
style  and  fabric,  these  two  presented,  even  to  the 
casual  glance,  that  marked  contrast — in  thought 
and  manner,  as  well  as  appearance — which  so 
often  goes  to  cement  girl  friendships.  Dark, 
ruddy  and  tall,  Valerie  Courtenay  showed  in 
every  flash  of  her  black  eyes  and  every  curve  and 


IN  THE  WINTER  SIESTA.  \\ 

movement  of  her  supple  figure — in  the  very  tread 
of  her  slim  boot  and  quick  movement  of  the 
slender,  brown  hand  about  her  hairpins — the 
conscious  power,  will  and  self  reliance,  foreign  to 
her  fair  companion.  For  Wythe  Dandridge  was 
shorter  by  a  head  than  her  cousin  and  chosen  con- 
fidante; white,  plump  and  soft,  with  peachblow 
complexion  and  curves  suggestive  of  dimple  in 
shoulder  and  elbow.  Masses  of  soft,  fair  hair 
coiled  low  upon  her  neck  and  shaded  the  low  brow, 
'neath  which  mild,  blue  eyes  glanced  furtively 
toward  the  gate,  as  the  pair  halted  at  the  door  of 
the  sashed  side  porch  that  formed  a  conservatory. 

Valerie  Courtenay  followed  the  other's  glance 
with  a  quick  flash  of  her  dark  eyes  as,  with  a  mock 
sigh,  she  quoted : 

"'He  cometh  not,'  she  said,  'I  am  a-weary:'  1 
wonder  if  he's  dead." 

"Val!"  was  all  Miss  Dandridge  replied.  "How 
ca7i  you?  "  But  the  real  sigh  came,  as  the  soft 
eyes  again  traveled  to  the  gate. 

"How  can  /<e,"  Val  retorted  demurely,  "after 
writing  great  oaths,  that  took  eight  portraits  of 
Mr.  Davis  to  bring  them  through  the  mails,  that 
he  would  be  here  this  very  day.  Much  I  fear,  my 
pretty  coz,  that  he  has  surrendered,  rescue  or  no 
rescue,  to  that  dreadful  Baltimore  girl;  or  else 
has  been  captured  en  route  by  the  flying  artillery 
belles  at  Winchester." 


12  CRAG-NEST. 

"You  know  you  don't  mean  it,  Val,"  Wythe 
Dandridge  answered  gravely.  "And  besides, 
why  should  /  care?  You  know  he  wrote  to  you, 
not  to  me." 

^^To  me  and  for  you,"  Val  answered  saucily. 
"Why,  my  dear,  I'm  old  enough  to  be  his  —  aunt, 
if  I  am  his  cousin.  I  tell  you,  Wythe,  he's  a 
deserter." 

"I'm  sure  he's  detained  by  duty,"  the  other 
pleaded  seriously. 

"  'The  true  knight's  duty  is  to  his  ladye  fayre;' 
and  I  am  sure  —  " 

"Listen! — horses'  feet!"  the  fairer  girl  broke 
in,  bending  her  little  pink  shell  of  an  ear  toward 
the  yet  faint  sounds.     "It  must  be  he!" 

"Undoubtedly,"  Val  assented,  leaning  calmly 
against  the  pillar,  "for  there  is  no  other  rider  in 
the  Valley;  and  Master  Rob  Maury  always  rides 
four-in-hand." 

"There  are  several  horses,"  the  other  girl  an- 
swered; still  listening  eagerly  and  with  height- 
ened color.  "They  are  coming  so  fast.  Oh!  I 
hope  nothing  has  happened!" 

"Nothing  more  serious  I  warrant,"  Miss 
Courtenay  answered,  "than  a  squad  bringing 
news  of  his  being  shot  for  desertion;  or  perhaps 
Master  Rob  is  bringing  in  some  Yankee  picket 
that  captured  him.     Don't  you  think  so,  aunt?" 

"What  a  rattlebrain  you  are,  Val,"  the  lady 


IJV  TBI:  WINTER  SIESTA.  13 

addressed  replied.  She  stepped  from  the  con- 
servatory and  carefully  closed  the  sashed  doors 
with  firm,  white,  patrician  hands,  on  which  the 
lined,  blue  veins  alone  spoke  of  great  age.  Taller 
than  either  girl,  with  the  grace  of  belleship  from 
another  age  showing  in  every  pose  and  in  every 
fold  of  her  severely  made  black  silk  gown,  Mrs. 
Courtenay  looked  a  perfect  portrait  of  colonial 
days,  just  stepped  from  its  frame.  The  clear, 
white  skin,  softened  still  more  by  hair  of  spun 
silver,  pompadoured  high  back  from  the  broad 
brow;  the  aquiline  nose,  full  but  firm  lips  and 
partly  doubled  chin  gave  singular  strength  to  a 
face  in  which  benevolence  blended  with  power, 
only  to  be  dominated  at  times  hj  the  steady  gleam 
of  steel  gray  eyes,  undimmed  by  age  and  unyield- 
ing to  the  modern  fad  for  "glasses."  Calm,  self- 
reliant  simplicity  spoke  in  every  line  of  face  and 
figure  and  dress;  its  crowning  the  stiff  and  tower- 
ing back  of  her  widow's  cap,  of  which  the  frill  and 
strings  hung  loose  behind  her  coronet  of  hair.  No 
gleam  of  jewel,  chain  or  ring  relieved  severe  sim- 
plicity of  dress,  save  only  the  heavy  circlet  of  gold 
about  her  wedding  finger. 

"Visitors,  aunt;  and  several  of  them,"  Val 
said,  as  the  clatter  of  hoofs  grew  clear  and  sharp 
on  the  hard  mountain  road  and  a  party  of  four 
horsemen,  at  a  rapid  trot,  swung  round  the  curve 
of  the  hill  and  bore  down  upon  the  gate. 


14  CRAG-NEST. 


"They  are  ever  welcome,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  re- 
plied— one  of  her  rare  smiles  showing  even,  white 
teeth,  of  nature's  making.  "They  are  doubly  so 
when  they  wear  our  uniform.  But  see,  my  chil- 
dren! That  taller  horseman  is  our  cousin,  Wirt." 
And  the  lady  of  the  manor  moved  toward  the 
broad  steps,  as  the  riders  clattered  through  the 
gate  and  up  the  path. 

"And  the  tall  young  rider  behind  him  is  our 
cousin,  Rob  Maury,"  Val  whispered  to  her  cousin, 
as  she  followed  her  aunt. 

"And  the  other  is  Lieutenant  Caskie  Cullen," 
Wythe  Dandridge  whispered  back;  a  most  unnec- 
essary blush  tinting  her  soft  cheek  and  what  of 
her  neck  peeped  above  her  collar. 

Erect,  stern  and  soldierly,  the  elder  oflflcer  rode 
up;  drawing  rein  as  he  lifted  his  corded  hat  and 
gravely  bent  his  broad  shoulders;  then  swinging 
from  saddle  with  the  easy  grace  of  a  young  horse- 
man. Over  six  feet  of  height  seemed  even  more 
from  length  of  sinewy  limb  and  lank,  muscular 
body;  its  depth  of  rounded  chest  denoting  unusual 
strength.  The  close  fitting  shell-jacket  and  bufe 
riding  pants  answered  to  play  of  muscle;  the  high 
riding  boots  ended  in  slim,  high-arched  feet;  while 
the  ungauntleted  hand  that  raised  his  hat  was 
firm  and  white,  but  nervous  as  if  gripping  the  hilt 
of  his  famous  sword.  For  few  men  in  the  Army 
of  Virginia  could  draw  that  blade  from  scabbard 


JiV  THE  WINTER  SIESTA.  15 

with  one  sweep,  so  great  was  its  keen  and  shining 
length. 

Every  inch  the  cavalier  looked  Colonel  Wirt 
Calvert,  as  well  he  might  with  the  bluest  blood  of 
sister  states  coursing  through  his  veins.  Straight 
descended  through  his  sire  from  the  first  lords  of 
Maryland,  his  mother's  forbears  had  early  landed 
at  Jamestown.  And  upon  the  face  that  fitly  top- 
ped his  stalwart  frame,  the  marks  of  descent  and 
personality  were  traced  with  equal  clearness. 
The  high,  sloping  forehead,  its  temples  fringed 
sparsely  with  snow-white  hair;  the  deep-set  blue 
eyes  beneath  heavy  gray  brows;  the  firm-based 
nose  with  ample  nostrils,  and  the  long-sloped  jaw 
with  full,  beardless  chin,  denoted  tenacity  of  the 
"Island  Mastiff,"  tempered  by  high  intelligence. 
But  that  tell-tale  feature,  the  mouth,  spoke  no 
further  clue  to  the  complex  machinery  within;  for 
the  long  sweep  of  a  huge,  gray  mustache  com- 
pletely veiled  it  and  curved  about  the  jaw.  So,  as  he 
tossed  his  rein  to  the  ready  orderly,  never  moving 
the  blue  eyes  from  the  ladies,  as  he  advanced  with 
bared  head.  Colonel  Calvert  seemed  best  exemplar 
of  those  "Golden  Horse  Shoe  Knights,"  whom  the 
Southern  poet  wrote: 

"  The  knightliest  of  the  knightly  race, 
Who,  since  the  days  of  old, 
Have  kept  the  lamp  of  chivalry 
Alight  in  hearts  of  gold — 


16  CMAG-NE8T. 


The  kindliest  of  the  kindlj'  band 

Who  rarely  hated  ease, 
Who  rode  with  Smith  around  the  land, 

And  Raleigh  round  the  seas! 

"Who  climbed  the  blue  Virginia  hills 

Amid  embattled  foes, 
And  planted  there,  in  valleys  fair, 

The  lily  and  the  rose — 
Whose  fragrance  lives  in  many  lands, 

Whose  beautj'  stars  the  earth, 
And  lights  the  hearths  of  many  homes 

With  loveliness  and  worth!" 


Educated  at  St.  Cyr,  with  the  cadets  of  a  noble 
French  family — whose  head  had  fought  by  Major 
Herbert  Calvert's  side  in  Washington's  campaigns 
and  had  shared  his  blanket  at  Valley  Forge — the 
son  added  the  softer  graces  of  Parisian  manner  to 
the  more  solid  courtliness  of  the  old  school  Vir- 
ginian. 

"We  were  fortunate  indeed,  Cousin  Virginia," 
he  said,  with  a  bow  a  marshal  of  the  Empire  might 
have  given  before  Josephine,  "that  our  duty  and 
pleasure  unite  in  laying  our  road  to  your  door. 
Thrice  fortunate — "  he  added  as  he  raised  his  head, 
after  touching  his  mustache  to  the  extended  hand 
of  his  kinswoman,  and  his  keen  glance  rested 
kindly  on  the  two  girls — "in  finding  your  fair 
young  aides  on  duty." 

And  the  tall  head  bent  not  so  low  this  time,  as 


IN  THE  WINTER  SIESTA.  17 

the  grim  mustache  swept  lightly  each  fresh  fore- 
head: 

"Why,  my  little  cousins,  you  grow  prettier 
every  time  we  meet!  But,  pardon.  Cousin  Vir- 
ginia! You  know  my  young  friend,  Maury;  let 
me  present  Lieutenant  Fraser  Ravanel,  of  Charles- 
ton." 

''You  were  ever  welcome,  sir,"  the  old  lady  said 
gently,  "simply  as  a  Carolina  soldier;  more  so  as 
my  kinsman's  friend.  But  you  have  a  higher 
claim  to  command  me  and  mine  if,  as  I  believe, 
your  mother  was  Sarah  Routlege,  my  schoolmate 
at  Philadelphia.  My  nieces,  Miss  Courtenay — 
Miss  Dandridge, — Mr.  Kavanel." 

Robert  Maury,  boyish,  agile  and  gay,  had 
thrown  himself  from  his  horse  and  was  already 
shaking  hands  heartily  with  both  girls;  but  Wythe 
Dandridge's  blue  eyes  looked  beyond  the  young 
soldier,  to  open  wide  with  surprise  at  the  deeper 
crimson  disc  that  jumped  into  Val  Courtenay's 
pleasure-flushed  cheek,  as  her  eyes  meet  the  grave, 
gray  ones  of  the  tall  Carolina  cavalryman.  But 
he  advanced  with  lazy  grace,  taking  the  old  lady's 
hand  courteously,  as  he  said  in  his  soft,  seaboard 
accent : 

"You  are  so  good  to  remember  her,  Mrs.  Courte- 
nay! I  have  often  heard  ma  speak  of  her  school- 
days; and  I  must  compliment  her  by  saying  that 
she  is  as  well  preserved  as  yourself.  I  am 
2 


18  CRAG-NE8T. 

charmed  to  meet  Miss  Dandridge,  after  hearing 
so  much  of  her," — he  again  bowed  suavely; 
adding  easily — "and  Miss  Courtenay  and  I  are 
scarcely  strangers." 

"Oh!  how  delightful — "  Wythe  began  aloud  to 
Rob  Maury;  but  the  other  girl  broke  in  a  trifle 
rapidly,  the  color  still  lingering  in  her  face: 

"Yes,  aunt;  Mr.  Ravanel  and  I  have  met  at 
Judge  Brooke's,  in  Richmond.  But,  Cousin  Wirt, 
how  does  it  chance  that  you  all  came  this  way; 
adding" — she  finished  with  her  old  manner  and  a 
quick  glance  at  Miss  Dandridge — "so  much  to  all 
our  pleasure?" 

"Providence  and  the  War  Department,"  the 
veteran  answered.  "I  have  been  transferred  to 
command  of  the  — th  Cavalry;  and  our  base  of 
operations  will  be  the  Valley  for  the  present." 

"Oh!  I'm  so  glad!"  chirped  Miss  Dandridge. 

"So  am  I,"  echoed  Rob  Maury. 

"I  may  venture  to  join  the  chorus?"  the  Caro- 
linian said  quietly.  But  the  interrogation  point 
was  made  by  the  flash  of  his  gray  eyes,  as  they 
met  the  dark  ones  Val  Courtenay  chanced  to  lift 
at  his  words. 


THE  OLD  VIRGINIA  HOME.  10 

CHAPTER  11. 

THE    OLD    VIRGINIA  HOME. 

Crag-Nest  loked  little  warlike,  as  the  family 
and  its  guests  sat  about  the  old-time  table,  loaded 
with  triumphs  of  the  Mrginian  cuisine.  Sturdy 
men  of  war — their  appetites  sharpened  by  brisk 
riding  through  crisp,  mountain  air,  and  their 
viands  sauced  by  warmest  welcome  and  charming 
companionship — charged  valorous  upon  the  ram- 
parts of  fried  chicken  and  swept  resistless  over 
barricades  of  raised  biscuits.  They  decimated 
long  ranks  of  brown  muflins  and  the  pig-ham 
melted  as  they  bore  down  like  the  Guard  at  Water- 
loo. Amber  coffee  flowed  free,  and  now — the 
main  onset  done — they  pressed  no  less  vigorously 
the  rear-guard  of  airy  waffles  and  flannel  cakes,  of 
which  the  flankers  were  literally  "flowing  with 
milk  and  honey."  But  in  the  pauses  of  pleasant 
conflict,  the  colonel  had  told  his  story,  not  un- 
aided by  volunteer  aidship  of  Master  Itobert 
Maury,  who  stopped  low-toned  prattle  with  Val 
Courtenay  to  throw  out  interjectory  comment,  en- 
dorsement, or  approval. 

The  — th  Cavalry  was  a  crack  regiment  of  noted 
riders,  with  history-noted  names;  and  its  selection 
for  outpost  and  scout  duty  followed  the  promotion 


20  CRAG-NEST. 

of  its  colonel  to  a  western  brigade.  Unsought, 
and  through  fitness  only,  came  Colonel  Calvert's 
transfer  from  infantry  to  the  more  congenial  ser- 
vice; his  perfect  knowledge  of  the  Valley  and  its 
people  pointing  to  him  as  the  man  for  that  post. 

'^My  headquarters  will  not  be  far  away.  Cousin 
Virginia;  and  I  need  not  add  that  yon  and  your 
fair  aides  will  be  ever  welcome  on  your  visits  of 
inspection.  The  regiment  is  marching  there;  but 
we  spurred  ahead — " 

"So  plainly  to  our  advantage,  sir,"  Rob  put  in, 
his  mouth  rather  too  full  of  waffle  and  honey. 
"The  colonel  has  made  me  his  courier.  Cousin 
Val;  and  from  now  on  I'll  look  down  from  a  Mc- 
Clellan  tree  on  these  poor  infantry  tramps." 

"I  promised  your  father  to  make  a  man  of  you, 
when  he  fell  into  my  arms  at  Cerro  Gordo,  Rob," 
the  old  man  said  with  gentler  voice;  adding,  as  he 
brushed  back  the  flowing  gray  mustache:  "And 
I'll  do  it,  if  you  ever  grow  out  of  being  a  big  boy!" 

"And  you  are  with  the  — th  Cavalry,  also?" 
]Mrs.  Courtenay  turned  graciously  to  her  stranger 
guest,  who  had  sat  quietly  through  the  meal,  tak- 
ing small  part  in  the  current  of  talk. 

"Temporarily,  I  am  on  special  duty,  ma'am," 
he  answered;  adding  quickly:  "On  detail  for  en- 
gineer duty.  But  I  had  no  idea  of  being  first 
ordered  on  such  pleasant  special  service  as  this." 

"Your  mother's  son  must  ever  be  a  welcome 


THE  OLD  VIRGINIA  HOME.  21 

guest  at  Crag-Nest,"  the  old  lady  replied  with  a 
smile.  ''Cousin  Wirt  puts  me  under  compliment 
by  permitting  me  to  entertain  you,  even  for  the 
brief  two  days." 

But  the  man's  eyes  had  again  caught  Miss 
Courtenay's  and  some  restraint  and  absence 
showed  in  his  perfunctory: 

"You  are  too  good,  ma'am!" 

"And  of  course  you  dance.  Captain  Ravanel?" 
Miss  Dandridge  exclaimed.  "You  must;  riding  so 
well  as  you  do !"  Then,  catching  Rob's  wide  stare 
fixed  on  her,  the  younger  girl  blushed  rosily  at  her 
implied  confession  of  prompt  study  of  the  stran- 
ger's points,  as  she  corrected  herself: — "As  Mr. 
Maury  says  you  do." 

"Did  I  say  that?"  Rob  blurted  out,  boy  fashion. 
"I  don't  remember  it,  but  it's  true  though.  I'm 
no  bad  horseman  myself,  but  I  reckon  Mr.  Ravanel 
can  give  me  points." 

"I  have  been  riding  longer  than  he  has.  Miss 
Dandridge,"  Ravanel  said  with  a  smile  that 
showed  white  teeth  under  his  drooping  mustache 
— "You  ride,  of  course?" 

"Oh!  I  dote  on  it,"  the  girl  cried  naively;  "but 
I  don't  ride  like  Val— " 

"I  have  been  riding  longer  than  she  has,"  Miss 
Courtenay  finished  for  her.  And  again  her  eyes 
met  the  man's;  this  time  not  dropping  under  them, 
though  the  color  deepened  in  her  oval  cheeks. 


22  CRAG-NEST. 

"1  am  glad  you  do,"  he  continued  quietly  to 
Wythe;  not  even  answering  her  cousin's  look.  "I 
have  a  very  clever,  v^ell-gaited  mare  with  the 
wagons,  and  I  hope  you  will  permit  me  to  offer 
her  and  myself  for  your  service.  Miss  Dandridge." 

"Aunt  Virginia  is  very  careful  about  Miss 
Wythe's  mounts,"  Rob  Maury  put  in  abruptly — 
"Your  mare  is  a  little  fresh  sometimes,  Mr. 
Ravanel." 

"All  young  animals  are  apt  to  be,  on  occasion," 
the  Carolinian  responded  quietly.  "But,  like  her 
master,  Santee  yields  naturally  to  feminine  hand. 
You  will  permit  me" — he  turned  courteously  to 
his  hostess — "when  I  have  become  less  of  a  stran- 
oer?" 

"But  you  haven't  answered  if  you  dance," 
Wythe  persisted,  "and  I'm  just  sure  you  do!" 

The  man's  eyes,  absently  gazing  through  the 
wide  window  on  the  crescent  moon  just  cresting 
the  distant  mountain,  never  changed  as  he  an- 
swered half  to  himself: 

"1  used  to — it  seems  so  long  ago!" 

And  the  far  away  look  deepened  in  the  eyes 
that,  had  he  turned  them,  might  have  seen  Val 
Courtenay's  as  well  travel  to  the  distant  mountain 
top,  while  the  same  far  away  look  deepened  in 
them  and  her  aunt  spoke  twice  ere  she  recalled 
herself  with  a  little  start. 

"I  beg  pardon,  aunt.     Yes,  Cousin  Wirt,  it  will 


THE  OLD  VIR(jHNIA  HOME.  23 

be  delightful;  and  the  War  Department  builded 
wiser  than  it  knew  when  it  sent  us  protectors, 
partners,  horses  and  proffers  of  picnics,  all  in  one." 

"We  should  celebrate  their  advent,"  Wythe 
Dandridge  cried  with  a  merry  laugh. 

"And  so  you  shall,  my  dears,"  Mrs.  Courtenay 
assented  cheerily.  "As  soon  as  the  — th  regiment 
pitches  its  tents  you  shall  have  a  dance  of  wel- 
come"— she  bowed  gravely  to  the  colonel — "if  its 
commander  permits." 

"On  one  condition  solely" — the  veteran  an- 
swered— "that  my  kinswoman  walks  the  polonaise 
with  me.  Jove!  I  have  not  danced  one  since  that 
night  in  Paris  when  the  Marquis  feted  the  Russian 
Crown  Princess.  I  was  a  slim  youth  then.  Cousin 
Virginia," — he  went  on,  waxing  reminiscent — 
"but  I  remember  my  lavender  silk  stockings  and 
silver  buckles;  and  how  Madame  la  Marquise 
honored  the  young  American  by  giving  him  her 
hand." 

"Was  she  pretty,  sir?"  Rob  Maury  queried  with 
his  now^  empty  mouth  half  open,  as  if  to  gulp  in 
the  answ^er. 

"She  w^as  a  grand  lady,  sir,  with  the  blood  of 
princes  in  her  veins,"  the  colonel  responded  with 
slight  frown;  but  turning  to  his  kinswoman:  "A 
great  man,  the  Marquis,  Cousin  Virginia,  in  peace 
as  in  war.  Jove!  it  was  he  first  taught  my  father 
the  true  secret  of  filet  de  truite,  a  la  sauce  Tartare!" 


24  CRAG-NE8T. 

And  the  veteran  pronounced  the  last  word  with  a 
fatness  of  rolled  r's  and  an  Epicurean  gurgle  that 
would  have  made  Brillat  Savarin  proud  to  hear. 
"Those  were  rare  days,  when  I  hobnobbed  with 
royal  descendants!" 

"It  was  your  right  of  birth,  Cousin  Wirt,"  the 
old  lady  said  mildly,  but  raising  her  full  chin 
proudly.  "The  blood  of  the  Calverts  and  Cabbells 
is  the  peer  of  any  king's!  So,  as  a  daughter  of 
their  house,  I  accept  my  kinsman's  invitation  and 
will  succeed  Madame  la  Marquise  in  the  polonaise. 
— Bui  I  am  forgetting,  my  kinsman,  that  all  our 
guests  have  ridden  hard  to-day."  She  rose  from 
her  seat,  bowing  courteously  to  all  in  signal. 
"Ezekiel!  The  gentlemen's  candles! — Good-night 
and  pleasant  dreams  to  all.  As  we  are  not  on 
duty,  we  will  breakfast  at  eight." 

The  statue  of  shining  ebony  standing  by  the 
ponderous,  carved  sideboard  and  reflecting  in  its 
polished  silverware  vast  wealth  of  shirt  front  and 
standing  collar  above  his  blue  dress  coat,  waved 
stately  right  hand  to  the  door  and  swayed  his  long 
back  with  haughty  bend,  as  he  proclaimed: 

"Da  gennelmun's  can'ls  am  served!" 

The  two  girls  stood  a  moment  silent,  after  the 
matron's  gentle  good-night  kiss  upon  their  fore- 
heads; Val  Courtenay's  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon 
the  now  high-riding  moon,  her  companion's  star- 
ing straight  ahead  at  nothing,  as  the  blood  stole 


THE  OLD  VIRGINIA  HOME.  25 

redder  to  her  cheek.  Then  she  woke  with  a  little 
sigh  and  exclaimed: 

"Oh!  Val,  isn't  he  nice?" 

Miss  Courtenay  came  back  slowly  from  the 
mountain  top,  as  she  ansAvered  rather  wearily: 

"Oh,  yes,  he's  a  nice  enough  boy — ^" 

"Boy!  Why  Val,  he  must  be  thirty  if  he's  a 
day!     And  so  you  have  met  him  before?" 

"Oh!  I  thought  you  referred  to  my  cousin," 
the  other  girl  answered  quietly.  "Yes,  I  met  Mr. 
Ravanel  in  Kichmond — casually — when  I  staid 
with  Coulter  Brooke." 

"You  didn't  like  him  much,"  Wythe  persisted 
naively.     "You  didn't  seem  a  bit  glad  to  see  him." 

"You  did;  and  plainly  told  him  so,"  the  elder 
girl  answered  rather  tartly.  "No,  don't  pout, 
dear;  but  you  know  I  never  gush  over" — she  hesi- 
tated a  moment,  then  slowly  dropped  the  words — 
"men  I  don't  know.  But  it  will  be  very  nice  to 
have  Bob  so  near,  and  useful  as  a  walking  stick 
and  riding  beau." 

"Yes,  Bob  is  very  nice,"  Miss  Dandridge  re- 
plied, again  looking  across  the  room  at  nothing. 
"But  one  might  wish  that  he  had  a  little  more 
style." 

"There  are  better  things  than  style,  Wythe," 
Val  answered  seriously;  some  surprise  creeping 
into  the  eyes  she  fixed  upon  her  cousin.  "Bob 
Maury  is  a  gentleman  in  birth  and  in  heart.    When 


26  CRAG-NEST- 

you  have  been  in  society  as  long  as  I  have,  you  will 
learn  that  these  are  born,  and  unlike  style,  can 
not  be  made.  But  come,  dear,  we're  to  breakfast 
at  eight  and  'da  ladies  can'ls  am  served.'"  She 
passed  her  arm  gently  around  the  fair,  plump 
shoulders  and  bending  dow^n  pressed  a  genuine 
kiss  upon  the  pouting  lips.  Then  the  girls  lit  the 
tapers  in  the  grand  old  silver  sticks  on  the  side- 
board and  softl}^  passed  up  the  broad,  oak  stair- 
waj^  to  Ihe  u])per  hall,  across  which  came,  in  regu- 
lar volleys,  sounds  most  unlike  that  of 

"The  horns  of  elfl;ind  faintlj'  blowing," 

suggesting  that  Colonel  Wirt  Calvert  might  be 
dreaming  of  too  much  filet  de  truite  a  la  sauce  Tar- 
tare. 


BY  THE  "DAUGHTER   OF  THE  STARS."  27 

CIIAPTEIi    III. 

BY    THE    "  DAUGHTER    OF    THE    STARS." 

The  regiment  had  arrived,  gone  into  comfort- 
able winter  quarters  and  settled  down  to  routine 
of  camp  duty.  But  two  days  had  been  needed  for 
its  officers  to  learn  the  road  to  Crag-Nest,  where 
senior  and  sub  alike  shared  the  boundless  hospi- 
tality of  the  lady  of  the  manor,  and  the  latter 
especially  had  been  welcomed  warmly  by  the 
young  girls.  Already  there  had  been  a  riding 
party  to  the  river;  Miss  Dandridge  mounted  on 
''Santee,"  with  her  master  as  attendant  cavalier, 
while  Yal  Courtenay  rode  her  own  fiery  chestnut 
beside  Master  Robert  ^Maury's  eager  and  restless 
bay. 

The  always  bright-tempered  girl  had  been  in 
unusual  flow  of  spirits  these  tw^o  days;  caused,  as 
Wythe  hinted  to  her,  by  nearness  of  new  scalps, 
possible  of  affixment  to  her  slim  girdle;  and  on 
this  ride  she  grew  almost  reckless.  Gully  and 
stream  seemed  nothing  to  her  mettlesome  horse; 
and  more  than  once  she  turned  out  of  the  road  to 
put  him  at  a  fence  stiff  enough  to  test  the  best 
powers  of  her  escort's  mount.     And  after  one  of 


28  CRAG-NEST. 

these,  as  they  galloped  in  chase  of  the  pair  ahead, 
the  boy  suddenly  said: 

"Odd,  Cousin  Val;  but  you  don't  seem  to  like 
him. — And  women  always  do,  too!" 

"So  I  have  — "  the  girl  checked  the  involun- 
tary exclamation;  nodding  toward  the  couple 
ahead,  as  she  finished  with  a  laugh — "begun  to 
imagine,  Rob.  You  must  watch  your  'Lily  maid' 
or  she  will  be  broidering  stranger  Launcelot's 
shield,  ere  he  rides  away." 

"Pshaw!  You  don't  mean  it.  Cousin  Yal!"  the 
boy  blurted  out,  as  a  hot  flush  crossed  his  face. 
"She  doesn't  come  of  a  kind  that  are  won  without 
wooing — " 

"As  you  know.  Sir  Laggard!"  she  broke  in 
merrily. 

"And  the  man's  a  perfect  stranger,"  he  went  on 
glumly.  "But  he's  a  deuced  handsome  and  dash- 
ing one,  too;  and  he's  such  a  perfect  gentleman!" 

"Is  he?"  For  a  second  the  girl's  dark  eyes  lost 
their  merry  gleam ;  a  bitter  ring  in  her  voice.  Then 
her  laugh  chimed  out  again,  as  she  added: 

"And  he's  so  fond  of  his — 'ma'!" 

"Yes,  he  is,"  Master  Rob  assented  loyally. 
^^You  don't  think  less  of  him  for  devotion  to  his 
family.  Cousin  Yal?  And  it's  a  good  one,  too. 
I'm  not  much  gone  on  Mr.  Ravanel,  for  he's  too 
cold  and  proud  to  suit  my  book,  and  he  thinks 
privates  no  better  than  rice-field  niggers.    But  he's 


BY  THE  ''DAUGHTER  OF  THE  STARS."  29 

a  man  and  a  brave  one,  and  a  good  soldier  for  all 
that.     By  Jove!  how  he  rides!" 

The  officer's  black,  chafing  and  lurching  side- 
ways under  the  strong  bridle  hand,  suddenly 
snorted  and  reared  almost  upright.  But  the 
quick  feet  left  the  stirrups,  the  knees  gripped  the 
saddle  closer  and  the  man  threw  his  weight  for- 
ward, as  the  corded  neck  went  straight  up.  And 
with  the  one  motion  the  heavy  gauntlet  in  the 
bare  right  hand  crashed  down  between  the  horse's 
ears.  Even  as  the  blow  fell,  the  clear  soft-toned 
voice  said,  with  the  same  drawing-room  accent: 

"Pull  to  the  left,  Miss  Dandridge!  Santee  may 
fret." 

The  black  was  down  again;  chafing  under 
punishment  of  the  spur,  but  obedient  to  the  seem- 
ing light  hand  on  the  curb;  and  Wythe  Dandridge, 
her  glowing  cheeks  and  frank  eyes  speaking  ad- 
miration, loosened  the  mare's  head  and  bowled 
along  confidently  by  her  escort.  Profile,  pose  and 
rapid  speech,  unheard  across  distance,  told  plainly 
that  she  was  complimenting  him,  and  again  the 
older  girl's  eyes  darkened  strangely,  and  the  line 
of  her  full  lips  grew  straighter  from  their  pressure 
together.     Then  she  answered  lightly: 

"A  very  Lochinvar,  come  out  of  the South! 

Beware,  Master  Laggard,  lest  he  mount  our  ^faii 
Ellen'  upon  his  horse's  croup  and  ride  away  from 
us  all!" 


30  CRAO-NEST. 

She  gave  the  chestnut  his  head  and  sped  away 
after  the  others  to  the  turn  of  the  road  that  showed 
the  Shenandoah  just  ahead.  High  beyond,  the 
Massanutten  reared  his  towering  forehead;  haloed 
now  by  golden  reflection  from  the  sunset;  while 
trending  southward  the  lower  crests  of  Three  Top 
mountain  began  to  lose  their  profiles  in  the  even- 
ing shadow.  Just  at  their  feet  the  "Daughter  of 
the  Stars"  *  bared  her  broad,  smooth  bosom  to 
the  reflected  glow,  as  though  ready  for  the  coming 
gleam  of  her  myriad-eyed  mother. 

The  quartette  drew  rein,  descending  to  the 
bank;  Val  Courtenay's  eyes  bent  steadily  upon  the 
fast  rippling  stream;  her  escort's  fixed  furtively 
upon  the  fair,  flushed  face  of  the  other  girl.  Grad- 
ually the  restless  mare  moved  upward  along  the 
bank,  and  gradually — obeying  imperceptible  turn 
of  Maury's  wrist — the  restless  bay  kept  even  pace 
with  her.  But,  as  he  sat  statue-like  in  his  saddle, 
Eavanel's  gaze  followed  Miss  Courtenay's  toward 
the  stream,  whether  or  not  it  went  beyond  herself. 
Suddenly  and  with  a  half  start,  Val  came  back  to 
the  present;  her  eyes  turned  toward  her  missing 
cousins,  who  had  disappeared  around  the  turn  of 
the  bank — then  resting  in  surprise  upon  her  sole 
companion.  He  too  came  back  to  himself;  and,  all 
society  man  at  once,  he  moved  the  black  up  abreast 
the  chestnut. 


*  Literal  translation  of  the  Indian  name,  Shenandoah. 


BY  THE  '' DAUGHTER   OF  THE  STARS."  31 

"I  fear  it  has  seemed  a  little  like  intrusion,  Miss 
Courtenay;''  he  said  quietly,  raising  his  hat,  "but 
my  presence  under  your  roof  was  the  fault  of  cir- 
cumstances rather  than  myself." 

"As  my  aunt's  guest,"  she  replied  coldly — all 
her  interest  again  seeming  to  center  on  the  river— 
"7  have  no  possible  right  to  criticise.  As  her  kins- 
man's friend,  you  were  doubtless  entirel}'  wel- 
come"— there  was  almost  imperceptible  pause  ere 
she  finished — "to  her." 

"I  think  I  have  the  right,"  the  man  said  gravely, 
ignoring  her  equivoke,  "to  ask  one  question.  What 
was  your  ground  for  deciding  that  we  should  be 
strangers?" 

"Was  it  not  sufficient  that  I  so  decided?"  was 
the  girl's  answer  calmly  given. 

"No!  Assuredly  not,"  he  retorted  earnestly  but 
quietly.  "Even  the  law  grants  the  accused  the 
right  to  hear  the  charge  against  him  and  to  plead 
in  his  own  defense.  When  a  man  is  condemned 
unheard  by  the  lady  who  has  said ■'' 

"What  she  prefers  not  to  remember,  her  wish 

should  be  the  only  law  to ,"  again  she  made  the 

least  perceptible  pause — "the  gentleman." 

Fraser  Ravanel  looked  steadil}^  at  the  half 
averted  face  while  he  might  have  counted  thirty; 
no  perceptible  change  showing  itself  on  his  own. 
Then  he  said  in  low,  even  voice: 

"I  have  always  thought  myself  a  man — I  have 


82  CMAG-NJSST. 

believed  you  a  woman,  Valerie  Coiirtenay.  So  I 
speak  to  you  now;  not  as  society  gentleman  to  lady. 
When  we  parted  that  night  in  Kiehniond;  when  I 
had  asked  for,  and  3^ou  had  granted  a  pledge " 

"Which  1  have  said  I  would  forget,"  she  broke 
in,  her  voice  quivering,  her  eyes  darkening  upon 
the  river. 

" Which  you  had  taught  me  to  expect;  and 

to  which  I  claim  I  have  forfeited  no  right,"  he 
went  on,  ignoring  the  interruption,  "I  w^as  cast 
aside  as  a  used  glove;  my  letters  first  unanswered, 
then  returned  unopened!  Should  not  justice,  if 
not  courtesy,  grant  me  an  explanation?" 

"To  what  avail?"  she  queried,  her  face  still 
averted ;  the  bosom  of  her  close  fitting  habit  rising 
and  falling  rapidly. 

"That  I  may  clear  myself  of  unjust  suspicion," 
the  man  answered  firmly.  "When  one  who  has 
ever  kept  faith  with  man  and  woman  gives  his 
solemn  pledge " 

"He  should  keep  it  for  at  least  an  hour,  Mr. 
Ravanel!"  Her  face  turned  full  to  him;  her  eyes 
steadily  meeting  his  that  never  fell  before  their 
searching  accusation,  although  some  wonderment 
rose  into  them. 

"I  am  waiting."  His  voice  was  not  raised  or 
changed.  "Please  go  on;  you  can  not  deny  my 
right  to  be  curious,  now." 

"You  can  not  deny  my  right  to  act  as  I  did," 


SY  THE  ''DAUGHTER  OF  THE  STARS."  33 

she  answered  rapidly,  ^'if  you  have  memory  enough 
to  recall  that  night  at  the  station." 

"I  recall  every  instant  of  it,"  he  said  very  gently ; 
"how  you  looked  and  spoke  at  the  ball;  how  you 
were  good  enough  to  dance  but  once;  how  I  pledged 
my  word  never  to  dance  again,  until  I  might  with 
you;  how  we  left  the  crowded  room  for  the  con- 
servatory; how  I  there  spoke  words  that " 

"Had  far  better  been  left  unsaid."  She  sat 
erect  in  saddle;  her  cheeks  burning,  with  her  eyes 
still  fixed  bravely  on  his. 

"Perhaps,"  he  answered  low  but  firmly;  "but  I 
must  first  ask  you  to  prove  that,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned." 

"What  need?"  she  answered  more  hotly;  the 
swell  of  her  bosom  more  rapid.  "I  retained  my 
eyesight  that  night,  even  if  you  lost  your  memory. 
But  we  are  in  the  mountains,  and  we  are  playing 
at  society.  Let  us  end  the  comedy  and  rejoin  my 
cousins." 

As  she  spoke  she  turned  her  horse's  head 
quickly;  but  with  equal  swiftness  the  black  barred 
her  way. 

"One  moment  first,"  the  man  said  gravely.  "It 
is  no  comedy  to  me;  nor  are  the  scenes  of  my  mak- 
ing. But  you,  Valerie  Courtenay,  were  the  first 
woman  to  whom  I  ever  spoke  serious  word  of  love; 
you  make  yourself  the  first  lady  whose  command 
I  have  disobeyed.     No  man  of  my  race  has  ever 

3 


84  VRAG-NEST. 

proved  disloyal  to  his  plighted  word.  I  were  dis- 
loyal to  them  and  to  myself,  did  I  not  demand 
something  more  definite  than  this  merely  hinted 
charge!" 

The  girl's  lip  curled  and  her  voice  was  hard 
that  scoffed: 

"Keally,  sir,  you  are  a  better  actor  than  I  had 
suspected." 

"Possibly,"  he  answered  quietly,  but  more 
rapidly,  "for  I  feel  as  I  act.  I  am  no  child;  you  no 
woman  to  speak  lightly  such  words  as  you  once 
said  to  me.  Why  should  we  throw  away  what 
might  be  precious  to  us  both,  when  a  single  word 
from  you  might  clear  up  a  hideous  mistake  that 
comes  between  uts?  Valerie!  Through  all  these 
many  months;  through  silence,  even  contempt,  I 
have  never  doubted  you.  No!  do  not  speak!  Had 
I,  my  self  respect  had  never  let  me  allude  to  the 
past,  far  less  plead  for  the  future,  as  I  do  now." 

Once  more  the  girl's  eyes  fell  before  his  earnest 
gaze,  resting  on — if  not  seeing — the  far  rolling 
river.  Once  more  the  rapid  movement  of  her 
bosom  spoke  the  hot  tumult  within;  but  the  full 
lips  pressed  firmly  together,  and  the  clinch  of  her 
hand  upon  the  rein  bore  her  spirited  horse  some 
paces  backward.  But  she  spoke  no  word;  and 
again  the  man — low  and  rapidly,  and  with  some- 
thing like  pity  in  his  voice— said: 

"Do  not  be  afraid  to  speak !    Anything  is  better 


BY  THE  ''DAUGHTER  OF  THE  STARS."  35 

than  this  silence;  anything  more  just  to  me  and  to 
— yourself!" 

"What  need?"  the  voice  was  scarcely  hers  in 
its  tremulous  hardness;  "you  must  remember  that 
night!" 

"I  have  told  you  I  do,"  he  answered.  "When 
you  left  the  ball  room,  I  said  I  would  see  you  at 
the  train.  There  I  slipped  the  rosebud  into  the 
little  hand  that  spoke  farewell  so  loyally;  the 
train  that  bore  you  from  me  moved  rapidly  awa}^, 
but  left  me  full  of  joy  and  hope." 

The  girl's  lips  quivered  as  she  still  looked  at  the 
river.  Two  deep  red  spots  rose  to  her  cheeks  and 
something  like  a  sob  seemed  to  rise  into  her  throat; 
but  she  bravely  conquered  herself,  saying  only: 

"Was  that  all?" 

"That  was  all,"  he  answered  firmly,  "save  that 
you  went  from  me,  either  to  sport  with,  or 
strangely  to  misjudge  me.  If  I  speak  falsely,  by 
your  truth  to  your  own  womanhood,  I  demand  that 
you  prove  it!" 

A  changed  woman  turned  in  that  saddle;  her 
form  erected  and  her  glowing  eyes  fixed  upon  his 
with  glance  as  proud  and  stern  as  his  own.  The 
red  had  gone  from  her  face,  but  left  it  firm  as 
pale,  as  with  steady  voice  she  answered: 

"I  have  sought,  honestly,  to  avoid  this  expla- 
nation and  yourself  equally.  You  taunt  me  with 
injustice;   and   demand,   by   my   honor   and   self 


56  CRAG-NE8T. 

respect,  the  brutality  of  words!  Very  well;  you 
slioll  have  them.  That  train  you  saw  whirl  me 
away,  soon  backed  swiftly  into  the  depot,  opposite. 
From  its  window,  a  chance  glance  showed  me  an 
incoming  train.  From  it  stepped  a — lady.  A 
gentleman  scanning  the  train  approached  eagerly. 
There  was  surprised  recognition — joyous  greeting. 
An  instant,  and  her  head  was  on  his  shoulder — 
his  arms  about  her!" 

Pale,  with  compressed  lips  and  brows  con- 
tracted, over  eyes  that  gleamed  back  almost 
fiercely  into  hers,  Fraser  Ravanel  sat  motionless 
in  his  saddle,  with  never  a  word  of  reply.  So,  for 
what  might  have  been  many  seconds.  Then  the 
man,  all  himself  once  more,  backed  his  horse  from 
her  path  as  he  lifted  his  hat  with  graceful  sweep 
and  said  in  his  soft,  drawing-room  voice: 

"We  will  hunt  for  your  cousins.  Miss  Courte- 
nay." 


A  BIT  OF  SAGE  ADVICE.  37 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A    BIT    OF    SAGE    ADVICE. 

The  ball  to  welcome  its  new  military  neighbors 
was  in  mid  revel  at  Crag-Nest.  The  house  had 
been  so  arranged  as  to  give  the  most  space  possible 
to  the  dancers;  tightly  drawn  tent  flies,  draj)ed 
with  borrowed  flags,  enclosed  the  wide  verandah 
and  formed  a  cosy  supper  room,  where  a  buffet, 
amply  filled  with  solids  and  sweets,  and  majes- 
tically presided  over  by  Ezekiel,  in  even  more 
ample  show  of  linen,  tempted  old  and  young  in  in- 
tervals of  talk  or  dance.  The  glassed  conserva- 
tory— Mrs.  Courtenay's  pride  and  solace,  in  those 
intervals  when  her  hospitality  took  vacation  from 
very  lack  of  material  on  which  to  lavish  it — opened 
inviting  doors  upon  this  improvised  supper  room ; 
and  its  cool  walks,  bordered  with  tall,  tubbed  gar- 
den plants  and  some  rare  exotics,  lit  by  softened 
gleam  of  swinging  lamps,  enticed  more  than 
one  waltz-w^earied  couple  to  seductive  seats  in 
shadowed  corners. 

Colonel  Calvert  had  walked  "the  opening 
polonaise"  of  the  fete  with  his  stately  kinswoman; 
her  severe  black  costume  relieved  for  the  occasion 
by  soft  falls  of  rare  old  lace,  unique  of  design  and 
time-shaded  from  amber  to  rich  coffee  color.     And 


S8  CRAG- NEST. 

a  gracious  pair  they  showed,  those  relics  of  the 
good  old  times;  merry,  calm  and  grand,  through 
their  rhythmic  walk,  with  best  adherence  to  time 
permissible  under  coercion  of  an  improvised  or- 
chestra— two  fiddles,  flute  and  guitar.  Grave, 
watchful  and  yet  with  nearer  approach  to  tremor 
than  ever  hostile  charge  had  brought  him,  the 
colonel  led  the  dance;  his  step  measured,  his  head 
erect  above  the  deep,  inflated  chest;  and  his  bows 
perfection.  And  his  partner's  pace  was  measured 
stateliness,  equal  to  his  own;  serene  pleasure 
seated  upon  her  strongly  marked  features,  now 
softly  flushed  with  pleasurable  thought  of  joy  to 
others  at  her  bidding.  Then — the  polonaise  com- 
pleted and  the  lancers  danced,  "just  to  break  the 
ice,  you  know,"  as  Rob  Maury  explained — the 
negro  fiddlers  struck  up  a  rattling  waltz  and  eager 
beaux  sought  no  unwilling  partners.  Gray  shell- 
jackets,  orange  trimmed  and  yet  unsmirched  with 
powder  and  camp  smoke,  contrasted  prettily  with 
soft  dresses  of  the  girls;  for,  so  early  in  the  war  no 
scarcity  was  felt,  even  in  matter  of  dress,  and  the 
guests  embraced  the  whole  higher  population  of 
the  lower  Valley  accessible  to  call.  Fair  faces  and 
graceful  forms  showed  on  every  hand;  the  varying 
types  proclaiming  descent  from  many  a  different 
stock;  but — brunette  or  blonde,  matron  or  maid — 
each  woman  present  showed  the  ease  of  access  to 
"the   best   society,"  and  the   nameless   charm   ol 


A  BIT  OF  SA(,'E  ADVICE.  39 

gentle  breeding  gave  a  tone  to  the  whole  affair,  too 
often  missing  in  more  ambitious  congregations  of 
some  great  city's  "leaders."  Nor  were  the  men 
lacking  in  that  courtliness  and  deference  to  sex, 
typical  of  old  Virginian  days.  The  undecorated 
jacket  of  the  beardless  youth,  the  star-decked  coat 
of  the  chevroned  officer,  alike  covered  the  best 
blood  of  the  Old  Dominion;  for  the  — th  Cavalry 
was  truly  a  corps  cVcJUe,  and  sire  and  son  of  that 
day  made  practical  the  idea  of  the  German  poet: 

Honor  to  woman!     To  her  it  is  given 

To  garland  tlie  eartli  witli  the  roses  of  heaven! 

Waltz,  quadrille  and  lancers  had  succeeded 
each  other,  soft  speech  from  bearded  lips  had 
brought  the  pleasure-flush  to  delicate  cheeks; 
and  already  the  polished,  bald  forehead  of  Eze- 
kiel  and  his  household  staff  gleamed  with  shinier 
ebon,  from  the  moisture  of  grateful  exercise.  But 
'^the  labor  we  delight  in  physics  pain;"  and  the 
butler  of  Crag-Nest  grew  less  stately — indeed  al- 
most condescended  to  graciousness — under  con- 
sciousness of  pleasure-giving,  as  viceroy  of  that 
house's  head. 

"One  shabin'  ov  da  ham,  Morse  Wirt!"  he  plead, 
holding  back  the  plate  for  which  the  veteran  ex- 
tended his  hand.  "Miss  'Ginia  raised  da  pig,  sah; 
an'  I'be  seed  to  de  curin'  mysef!  Jess  a  shabin', 
sah;  ter  gib  da  ellerment  fur  da  bone-tukkey." 


40  CRAG-NEST. 

A  dexterous  twist  of  the  slim,  keen  carver  curled 
the  rich,  red  meat  across  its  back  as  the  negro 
spoke;  and  he  extended  the  plate  with  a  bow  in 
which  grandeur  and  gratified  pride  bore  equal 
part. 

"Yes,  Cousin  Virginia,"  the  colonel  went  on— 
not  forgetting  his  grave  bow  of  acknowledgment 
as  he  took  the  plate,  "I  repeat  that  no  home  in  the 
Valley — I  might  add,  in  all  our  state — can  equal 
Crag-Nest  for  its  combination  of  home-comfort, 
old-school  courtliness  and  generosity  of  welcome. 
Why,  were  poor  Courtenay  looking  down  upon  us 
now,  even  that  prince  of  entertainers  could  ask 
no  addition  to  this  scene.  It  makes  me  young 
again!  It  makes  me  i^rouder  of  my  boys,  to  see 
that  they  need  as  little  disciplining  for  the  parlor 
as  they  do  for  the  field.  Jove!  I  would  not  scruple 
to  order  a  chance  detail  from  the  — th  to  fall  out, 
and  carry  them  to  a  soiree  at  the  Marquis'  palace, 
without  a  word  of  warning!" 

"You  are  right,  kinsman,"  the  hostess  replied 
with  a  half  sigh.  "I  have  heard  slurs  upon  us  for 
our  state-love  and  for  our  assumed  superiority. 
But  is  it  assumed,  or  actual?  Look  over  these 
youths — boys,  some  of  them;  and  tell  me  if  the 
mothers  of  any  state  send  more  precious  'food  for 
powder',  or  send  more  bravely  and  willingly,  for 
duty's  sake!" 

"None!"  he   answered   sonorously,   with  swift 


A  BIT  OF  SAGE  ADVICE.  41 

sweep  aside  of  his  mustache.  "In  this  home- 
brewed punch  I  drink  to  these  mothers  of  noble 
sons.  Scoffers  call  our  state  the  mother  of  presi- 
dents, Jove!  they  will  learn  to  respect  her  as  the 
mother  of  soldiers!" 

A  gleam  of  sadness  swept  across  the  matron's 
face,  glowing  responsive  to  his  words,  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"Is  ever  before  have  I  so  regretted,  cousin,  that 
there  was  no  heir  to  Crag-Nest!  And  yet,  what 
horrid  gaps  this  war  may  make  in  all  Virginia 
homes.  Think  of  the  mourning  left  from  Ma- 
nassas!" 

''Diilce  ft  decorum  r^  the  soldier  quoted  gravely, 
setting  down  his  emptied  glass,  not  without  a  little 
smack  of  the  mustache-hidden  lips.  "Bellona  is 
the  twin  of  sireless  Mors,  Cousin  Virginia.  Revo- 
lutions are  not  made  with  rose  water;  and  this 
one  is  against  a  race  akin  to  us;  as  staunch  and 
stubborn  as  ourselves — although  we  have  the 
right  to  fight  for.  Some  of  these  youngsters  will 
drop  out  of  our  ranks — many  a  one  will  leave  his 
legacy  of  sorrow  and  tears  behind;  but  each  will 
leave  also  his  legacy  of  glory  for  his  own  name,  and 
of  incentive  to  his  comrades  who  remain!  They 
arc  a  splendid  set  of  fellows!  Jove!  I  do  not  be- 
lieve any  Washington  soiree  could  equal  their 
natural  ease  and  elegance.  My  old  comrades  at 
St.  Cyr    had    equal    outside    polish;    they    never 


42  CRAO-NEST. 

equaled  those  inner  graces  of  head  and  heart, 
born  with  these  boys  of  mine!" 

"There  is  the  most  disiinguc  man  present,"  Mrs. 
Courtenay  answered;  adding  with  half  regret,  half 
wonder: — "And  he  is  not  a  Virginian." 

"He  is  first  cousin  to  it,"  her  kinsman  replied, 
with  a  thoughtful  twist  of  his  mustache  tips. 
"South  Carolina  is  most  like  us,  of  all  the  Con- 
federacy; only  she  is  a  trifle  hide-bound  and  be- 
lieves no  state  equal  to  her.  A  good  fault  for  a 
soldier-producing  countrj^,  cousin.  And,  besides, 
Fraser  IJavanel  was  educated  in  France,  at  U  Ecole 
Polytccliniqiic.'' 

"And  he  seems  to  admire  Wythe  very  much," 
the  lady  retorted,  more  gravely  than  relevantly. 

"Jove!  I  should  order  a  court  of  inquiry  on 
him  if  he  did  not,"  the  veteran  answered  with  a 
smile.  "And  now,  Ezekiel,  just  another  scrap  of 
that  chicken-salad  and  a  shaving  of  ham!" 

"Oh!  Cousin  Wirt,  isn't  this  just  too  nice  a 
dance?"  W^ythe  Dandridge  cried  as  she  came  up 
radiant,  flushed  and  leaning  on  Mr.  Kavanel's  gold- 
embellished  sleeve.  "But  I  must  have  some 
lemonade.  Give  me  a  glass.  Uncle  Ziek;  quick,  for 
I'm  so  thirsty." 

"Try  this  punch,  my  dear,"  the  colonel  an- 
swered, handing  her  a  brimming  glass.  "Lemon, 
rum,  tea,  cognac  and  champagne;  the  very  Regent's 
receipt  the  Marquis  gave  my  father,  the  year  I  was 


A  BIT  OF  SAGE  ADVICE.  43 

born!"  And  Sir  Charles  Grandison  had  made  no 
grander  bow  than  that  the  veteran  bent  over  the 
thin  glass  proffered  to  the  young  girl. 

"Your  home  is  perfection,  for  entertaining,  Mrs 
Courtenay,"  Ravanel  said  easily.  "Ma  is  very 
proud  of  her  wide  rooms,  overlooking  the  Battery, 
with  Charleston  harbor  stretching  away  to  the 
ocean.  But,  to  us  from  the  lowlands,  the  grand 
old  mountains  out  there  are  even  grander;  and  this 
glorious  air  is  a  real  tonic." 

"I  rejoice  that  you  like  the  Valley,  sir,"  the  old 
lady  replied  half  absently;  "but  I  remember  how 
lonely  your  mother  must  be,  in  her  seaside  home, 
if  you  are  her  only  child." 

For  an  instant  only,  the  man  stood  mute;  then, 
flushing  hotly,  he  answered  rapidl}^: 

"Yes,  ma'am;  I  am  my  mother's  only  child!" 

And  Val  Courtenay,  leaning  upon  a  burly 
major's  arm,  passed  near  enough  to  catch  the 
words,  and  answer  rather  at  random  to  her  escort's 
glowing  compliment,  as  her  aunt  waved  her  fan 
with  old  school  grace  as  accent  to  her  words: 

"And  I  can  realize  how  justly  proud  she  must 
be  of  you,  sir." 

But  the  girl's  face  grew  dark  and  stern,  and 
her  eyes — droj)ped  on  the  floor — had  an  evil  gleam 
in  them,  as  the  old  lady's  praise  fell  upon  her  ear. 
And  the  blood  surged  tingling  toward  her  brain, 
as  the  bright  supper  room  changed  for  her  to  a 


44  CRAG-NE8T. 

dingy,  smoke  filled  railway  station;  and  memory's 
cam(  ra  held  up  the  bold  negative  of  a  pale  faced 
girl,  crushing  a  white  rose  in  her  clinched  hand, 
as  she  saw  a  tall,  graceful  man  bend  his  head  and 
press  the  lips  of  the  eager-seeming  woman  clasped 
in  his  arms!  And,  as  she  raised  her  eyes,  Val 
Courtenay  felt  that  man's  full  upon  them;  while 
Wythe  Dandridge,  refreshed  by  the  colonel's  pre- 
scription, cried  to  her: 

"Oh!  Yal,  isu^t  it  too  nice?  And  Mr.  Eavanel 
declares  he  doesn't  dance  well!  You  know  if  he 
used  to;  and  I'm  sure  he  must!" 

Herself  in  a  moment,  the  older  girl  slammed 
memory's  camera  close  shut;  the  man  before  her 
was  an  every  day  acquaintance  at  once,  and  her 
voice  wholly  indifferent  as  she  answered: 

"I  believe  Mr.  Eavanel  was  considered  the  best 
dancer  in  Richmond." 

"Which  reminds  me  that  I  should  claim  you 
quickly.  Miss  Dandridge,  before  his  prowess  cap- 
tures my  waltz  with  you,"  the  burly  major  broke 
in.  And  next  instant  the  young  girl — her  hand 
slipped  into  the  speaker's  arm,  as  she  moved  to- 
ward the  dancing  room — turned  a  glowing  face 
over  her  shoulder  and  cried: 

"Oh,  Val!  make  him  dance  again,  then!  You 
can  have  the  second  from  this,  Mr.  Ravanel." 

Only  the  four  stood  near  the  buffet;  the  colonel 
and  the  hostess  facing  them;  Val  Courtenay  and 


A  BIT  OF  SAGE  ADVICE.  45 

her  dismissed  lover  facing  each  other  with  perfect 
nonchalance  in  seeming,  but  wary  watch  in  either's 
eyes,  as  in  the  trained  fencer's.  A  second's 
silence;  then  Kavanel's  voice  fell  soft  and  low  upon 
the  girl's  ear: 

"I  were  indeed  recreant  knight  did  I  refuse  to 
lift  that  gage,  Miss  Courtenay,"  he  said.  "Will 
you  risk  my  want  of  practice,  and  dance  with 
me?" 

Never  hesitating  one  instant,  but  with  closer 
pressure  of  her  lips  and  slight  paling  of  her  exer- 
cise-flushed cheeks,  Val  Courtenay  answered 
slowly: 

"I  do  not  fear  your — want  of  practice,  Mr. 
Ravanel." 

"And  you  will  dance?"  he  cried  more  eagerly. 

"I  am  under  my  own  roof;  you  are  my  aunt's 
guest,"  she  replied,  so  low  that  only  the  man 
caught  the  words,  as  she  turned  from  the  others 
and  let  her  fingers  barely  touch  the  arm  he 
had  proffered  as  eagerly  as  he  spoke.  "As  her 
representative,  I  should  regret  an  ungracious  act, 
even  did  inclination  prompt  it." 

He  halted  an  instant.  Then  his  lips  set  tight 
under  their  drooping  black  fringe,  and  he  moved 
on  again  toward  the  music.  Neither  spoke  word 
more  as  his  arm  passed  about  her  slim  waist  and 
the  pair  glided  out  amid  the  dancers.  One  brief  turn, 
and  the  burly  major  swung  Wythe  full  against  the 


46  CRAG-NEST. 

graceful  moving  pair;  even  the  Carolinian's  strong 
arm  and  dexterous  guidance  failing  to  avert  col- 
lision. But  as  they  recovered  poise,  Val  Courte- 
nay  stood  free  of  his  encircling  arm,  smiling 
quietly  at  the  major's  warm  excuses;  while  Wythe, 
her  eyes  dancing  and  her  cheeks  aglow,  was  crying: 

'•Oh!  aren't  you  ashamed,  Mr.  Ravanel?  You 
do  dance  as  well  as  you  ride!" 

"That's  saying  a  great  deal.  Miss  Wythe!"  Rob 
Maury  puffed  out,  as  he  ran  up  mopping  his  brow. 
"May  I  have  a  turn?" 

But  Wythe's  blue  eyes  were  still  upon  the  other 
man's  and,  his  making  the  query  suggested  by  his 
words,  he  answered  for  her: 

"I  believe  Miss  Dandridge  promised  me." 

Only  a  nod  at  Rob  was  her  reply;  her  hand 
upon  the  Carolinian's  shoulder  and  her  little  feet 
flying  in  time  to  those  of  the  best  partner  she  had 
ever  met.  And  Val  Courtenay's  eyes  moved  from 
the  fair,  joyous  face  to  the  dark,  stern-set  one,  with 
the  pity  in  them  changing  to  angry  contempt  as 
she  caught  his  almost  whisper: 

"/  have  kept  my  pledge!" 

"And  may  I  hope.  Miss  Courtenay — ,"  the 
major  began.  But  Val — coming  back  to  society 
in  view  of  impending  martyrdom — smiled  sweetly 
on  him  as  she  put  her  hand  on  Rob  Maury's 
shoulder,  saying: 

"So  sorry;  but  I  promised  my  cousin!" 


A  BIT  OF  SAGE  AD  VICE.  47 

"That  fellow,  Ravanel,  does  everything  well!" 
Rob  puffed,  as  he  dodged  unskillful  dancers.  ''By 
jingo,  cousin,  you  and  he  moved  as  if  you  were 
made  for  each  other!" 

The  girl's  feet  were  suddenly  still;  her  slim 
hand  slid  into  the  boy's  arm,  and  she  said  rather 
wearily: 

"It  is  so  warm!  Let  us  go  on  the  piazza  a 
moment." 

The  violins  still  scraped  merrily  to  twang  of 
the  guitars,  a  half  hour  later;  but  mortal  feet  are 
not  really  winged,  even  in  youth,  and  at  last  Wythe 
Daudridge  wearied  in  the  flesh — whatever  she 
might  have  done  in  spirit — of  her  new  found  part- 
ner. Eager  and  flushed,  she  was  listening  naively 
to  the  pleasant  sound  of  his  low-voiced  narration, 
as  they  strolled  through  the  supper  room,  past  the 
wide  doors  of  the  conservatory  and  down  the 
narrow  walk  between  the  tubs.  The  place  seemed 
deserted;  their  slow-moving  feet  making  no  sound 
upon  the  plank.  Suddenly,  just  at  its  turn,  voices 
fell  clear  and  sharp  through  the  scented  air.  A 
woman's  was  saying,  rather  wearily: 

"Love  is  ever  but  a  chance.  One  should  be 
very  sure  before  confessing;  doubly  so,  before  pro- 
claiming it!     And  you  are  so  young." 

The  Carolinian  halted,  quickly  as  at  command; 
his  face  grave  and  stern,  as  his  glance  swept 
rapidly  his  companion's.     Its  flush  had  gone;  a 


48  CRAG^'EST. 

wondering  query  rising  in  its  place;  but  ere  he 
could  turn,  the  man's  rapid  answer  came: 

''Young!  Love  like  mine  is  born  old!  You 
know  it  has  lived  for  years!  You  know  how  deep 
and  true  and  honest  it  is!  You  must  understand 
me! — And  I  tell  you,  I  must  have  an  answer!  1 
must  know  if  lie  is  in  my  way!  I  tell  you  I  begin 
to  hate — Ravanel!" 

Wythe  Dandridge's  eyes,  wide  appealing  out 
of  her  now  ashen  face,  met  those  of  the  man  be- 
side her.  They  were  glinting  with  an  ugly  light; 
his  lips  drawn  in  and  his  cheek  as  pale  as  her  own. 
But  he  faced  quickly  for  the  door,  bending  his  head 
as  he  whispered  shortly: 

"Come!    We  are  de  trop  here!" 

And  the  girl,  resting  heavily  on  his  arm,  fol- 
lowed his  stronger  will  mechanically  as  a  low, 
mocking  laugh  and  well-known  voice  followed 
them: 

"Nonsense!  You  will  learn  that  I  am  your 
truest  friend!  Love  is  a  delusion,  Rob.  I  know, 
for  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your — aunt!" 


UNDER   THE  STUAIN.  49 

CHAPTER  V. 

UNDER    THE    STRAIN. 

Almost  two  years  had  passed  since  Mrs.  Courte- 
nay's  ball  for  the  — th  Cavalry ;  years  of  which  the 
weeks  made  history  so  fast,  that  not  even  the  worst 
sufferers  by  its  making  could  count  its  mile-stones 
in  swift  rush  by  them.  Seven  Pines  and  Seven 
Days  had  told  their  tales  of  strategy  and  blood 
and  constancy.  Riddled  Fredericksburg  now  sat 
widowed,  amid  her  desolated  fields.  Twice  had 
the  "bare-footed  boys"  crossed  the  historic  river 
and  marched  almost  greedily  to  the  feast  of  death 
awaiting  them  on  Korthern  soil;  twice  had  they 
marched  back  from  carnage  that,  typing  the  hero- 
ism of  both  sides  to  it,  was  yet  void  of  real  result. 

The  meteor  campaign  of  Stonewall  Jackson  had 
made  the  Valley  its  deathless  name  in  chronicle; 
but,  too,  that  fateful  blow  had  fallen  which  struck 
closest  to  the  heart  of  the  South,  and  left  the  name 
of  Chancellorsville  a  synonym  for  woe! 

The  dull  echo  of  the  guns  at  Vicksburg  was 
heard  no  more;  silenced  for  aye  by  that  capitula- 
tion which,  close  following  the  retreat  from  Gettys- 
burg, made  the  national  day  a  veritable  dies  irae 
for  the  South. 

And  now  the  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah  had 
4 


50  CRAG-NEST. 

been  plowed  by  hostile  batteries;  furrowed  by  the 
flying  hoofs  of  Federal  and  Confederate  in  turn, 
as  raid  and  campaign  came  thundering  down  its 
defiles,  only  to  be  hurled  back  by  the  stubborn 
constancy  of  their  defenders. 

Winchester,  the  once  glad  queen  of  the  lower 
Valley,  had  fairly  earned  her  title  of  the  "race 
track,"  given  her  by  General  Crook;  each  height 
and  streamlet  for  miles  around  her  now  made 
classic  by  daring  dash  or  stubborn  combat;  her 
fair  fields,  one  straggling  cemetery  for  the  name- 
less  and  the  noted  dead;  her  very  streets  blood 
spattered  and  her  house  fronts  bullet  scarred, 
from  many  a  rush  through  them  of  pursuer  and 
pursued.  Yet,  with  that  filial  love  for  the  mother 
town,  peculiarly  Virginian,  the  women  of  Win- 
chester— and  only  they  were  left  with  youngest 
stripling  and  the  very  aged — sat  by  their  desolated 
hearths  and,  almost  hopeless,  still  hoped  on. 

Worse  still,  if  possible,  was  the  plight  of  those 
homes  in  the  Valley,  more  scattered  and  remote 
from  the  sympathy  and  encouragement  of  closer 
contact;  for  the  scythe  of  the  sword  had  harvested 
well.  Broad  fields,  late  smiling  with  plenty, 
stretched  away  blackened  and  bare;  tall  barns, 
late  filled  with  food  for  man  and  beast,  swung 
open  doors  before  their  emf)tiness,  where  indeed 
the  torch  had  left  them  more  than  charred 
skeletons.      Stock  and  implements  of  production 


UNDER   THE  STRAIN.  51 

had  alike  shriveled  in  the  red  flame  of  war;  and 
many  even  of  the  old  family  servants  had  followed 
the  Will-o'-the-wisp,  misnamed  Freedom,  leaving 
the  women-tenanted  homesteads  pitiably  helpless. 

Crag-Nest  was  scarce  exception  to  this  general 
rule;  albeit  the  strong  character  and  clear  com- 
mon sense  of  its  mistress — aided  by  unusual 
storage  of  supplies  and  by  the  steadfast  fidelity  of 
old  Ezekiel — had  so  far  kept  the  war-whelped  wolf 
somewhat  farther  from  the  door. 

Heedless  alike  of  advice  from  friends  and  ur- 
gence  by  relatives,  Mrs.  Courtenay  had  remained 
amid  her  lessening  household  gods;  and  there  with 
her  now  were  Val  Courtenay  and  Wythe  Dand- 
ridge,  the  old  negro  and  his  aged  wife  completing 
the  household.  Little  change  showed  in  the 
matron's  face  or  figure;  the  sti'oug  lines  of  the 
one  perhaps  a  trifle  deeper,  the  outline  of 
the  other  no  less  firm  and  erect,  albeit  the  plain 
bhick  dress  showed  somewhat  the  touch  of  time. 
The  elder  girl,  more  grave  and  thoughtful  as  a 
rule,  still  upbore  bravely  under  the  pressure;  the 
old  time  flashes  of  her  saucy  merriment  sheering 
through  the  gloom  about  them.  But  Wythe,  in 
her  childlike  simplicity  of  nature  and  her  more 
matured  personal  charm,  showed  more  plainly  re- 
sults of  ''time  and  the  hour." 

Gay  and  grave  by  turns,  she  gave  way  not  in- 
frequently to  possession  by  the  ''blue  devils";  and 


52  CHAG-JS'EST. 

more  than  once  Val  had  found  her  in  floods  of 
bitter  tears,  which  only  strongly  worded  remon- 
strance had  turned  away  from  the  straight  road  to 
hysterics.  Pale  and  with  more  distinct  lines 
beneath  her  appealing  eyes,  Wythe  was  a  more 
attractive  woman  than  in  her  baby-beauty  days, 
when  the  — th  Cavalry  had  ridden  so  gaily  to  the 
mountain. 

But  the  most  changed  part  of  that  household 
was  the  whilom  stately  Ezekiel;  gorgeous  no 
longer  in  his  brass-buttoned  swallow-tail  and 
wealth  of  immaculate  linen,  but  replacing  both  by 
a  doubtful  hued  army  shirt;  while  the  carefully 
brushed  but  worn  folds  of  the  former  were  stowed 
away  in  hiding  in  ''da  loff  ov  da  barn,"  only  to  be 
donned  on  great  occasions  of  advancing  raid,  or 
greater  ones  of  rebel  yelling  pursuit. 

Neither  of  the  girls  had  met  their  partners  of 
the  ball  since  that  eventful  night;  and  one  of  them 
had  never  voluntarily  let  the  name  of  hers  pass  her 
lips.  In  their  own  apartment,  Wythe  had  some- 
times introduced  the  theme,  only  to  have  it  ab- 
ruptly changed  by  her  cousin  with  the  curt  truth 
that  ''there  were  more  serious  things  to  think  of"; 
and  now  her  lips  also  were  sealed  on  the  tacitly 
tabooed  subject. 

The  morning  succeeding  the  dance  the  girl  had 
risen  pale,  sick  and  feverish;  later  taking  to  bed 
with  a  sharp  attack  of  what  the  country  doctor 


UNDER   THE  STRAIN.  53 

pronounced  "nervous  fever;  result  of  heat,  over 
exercise  and  excitement."  Val,  nursing  her  faith- 
fully for  weeks,  had  been  glad  of  excuse  for  seeing 
no  visitors,  save  Eob,  in  his  flying  calls  each  day. 
But  the  sick  girl  only  grew  restless  and  pettish, 
when  his  messages  were  faithfully  delivered;  and 
all  her  cousin's  coaxing  had  only  drawn  from  her 
the  stereotyped  phrase:  "There's  no  answer." 
Then,  one  night  the  colonel  rode  over  in  hot  haste 
and  bade  them  all  farewell.  A  threatened  raid 
by  Averell  into  Western  Virginia  had  brought 
orders  to  move  at  dawn;  only  temporarily  the 
veteran  thought.  But  weeks  passed;  and  then  an 
infantry  regiment  moved  down  the  Valley,  camp- 
ing on  the  cavalry's  old  ground.  Then  came  the 
active  movements  of  the  spring,  and  the  cavalry 
was  kept  on  the  go  about  the  border;  so  the  women 
saw  no  more  of  their  kinsmen. 

But  in  all  those  long  months,  Wythe  Dandridge 
never  breathed  to  Val  one  word  of  her  chance 
eavesdropping.  Gentle,  affectionate,  and  yielding 
as  ever  to  her  stronger  cousin,  she  felt  that  she  had 
been  slighted  for  her  by  the  youth  she  thought  had 
loved  her;  and  her  pride  waited  vainly  for  some 
confidence  from  the  other  side,  which  might  give 
her  the  whole  story  of  his  proposal  to  Val,  which 
she  felt  had  been  too  lightly  valued  and  scornfully 
refused.  So,  when  no  such  confidence  came,  the 
girl  shut  up  the  memory  in  her  sore  little  heart; 


54  CRAG-NEST 

drifting  further  away  on  a  drearj^  sea  of  doubt  and 
vainly  striving  to  give  sliape  to  the  Elmos-fire  of 
her  false  imaginings.  And  Val  Courtenay — firmly 
belies  ing  that  the  pure  heart  of  her  one  cousin  had 
wandered  wholly  away  from  the  other,  in  its  reach- 
ing for  higher  conquest  of  the  man  she  herself  had 
once  loved  and,  as  she  believed  honestly,  now 
despised — waited  for  some  word  or  hint  that  would 
give  her  ground  for  serious  warning.  She  had 
even  resolved,  in  her  unselfish  watch  over  her 
weaker  friend,  not  to  spare  herself,  did  it  prove 
needful  to  tell  the  whole  story  of  her  own  trust  and 
of  the  bitter  awakening  from  it.  But  word,  nor 
hint,  came  from  the  strangely  closed  lips  of  the 
other;  and  a  tacit  compact  seemed  to  raise  itself 
between  the  pair  to  ''let  the  dead  past  bury  its 
dead,"  after  its  own  fashion  and  in  cerements  of 
silence. 

At  first  frequent  letters  came  from  Rob  Maury 
to  his  cousin,  filled  with  query  of,  and  messages  to, 
Wythe.  To  the  former  she  could  give  no  intelli- 
gent reply;  for  the  girl  would  listen  dully  to  the 
latter,  only  repeating  her  invariable  formula: 
"There's  no  answer!"  So,  gradually,  the  letters 
grew  less  frequent;  finally  ceasing  altogether 
under  pressure  of  distance,  active  campaigning 
and  other  reasons,  as  Val  told  herself.  For  she 
believed  that  the  boy,  like  herself,  had  at  least 
caught  the  drift  of  his  sweetheart's  preference; 


UNDER   THE  STRAIN.  55 

and  the  pride  of  their  common  blood  sided  with 
and  applauded  his  decision. 

Of  Rob,  however,  they  still  had  frequent  news 
in  his  colonel's  letters  to  Crag-Nest;  and  these 
spoke  of  his  good  soldiership  and  refusal  of  pro- 
motion, to  stick  to  his  position  as  chief  of  the  scouts 
organized  by  him.  The  letters  also  spoke  some- 
times of  Captain  Eavaners  good  work  and  upward 
progress.  But  from  neither  direct  did  any  letter 
now  come;  Wythe  having  promptly  returned  two 
bulky  missives  Eob  first  sent,  and  that  young 
gentleman  having  refrained  from  repetition.  But 
when  the  colonel's  letters  came,  Mrs.  Courtenay 
would  read  them  aloud  and — naturally  warming 
to  their  theme,  amid  her  present  surroundings — 
would  descant  volubly  upon  the  grandeur  of  her 
kinsman  and  the  noble  conduct  of  his  brave 
boys. 

Not  wholly  cheery  were  those  long  evenings 
around  the  lamp,  in  the  now  barer  parlor  of  Crag- 
Nest,  as  the  three  women  plied  busy  needles  on  the 
coarse  fabrics  for  soldiers'  needs,  with  tongues  no 
less  busy,  when  their  theme  was  the  suffering  and 
trials  of  those  for  whom  they  wrought.  But  less 
cheery  still,  to  the  two  girls,  were  those  evenings 
when  the  colonel's  letters  came;  for  then  the 
matron,  her  needle  laid  aside,  would  read  aloud, 
re-read,  and  descant  on  them;  her  hearers  sitting 
with  heads  bowed  over  their  work  and  needles 


56  chag-xest. 

flying  swifter  through  it,  but  with  wholly  silent 
tongues. 

So  the  weeks  of  the  summer  of  '63  dragged 
their  slow  lengths  along,  strangely  unbroken  to 
those  patient-waiting  women,  save  by  rumor  of 
distant  strife,  and  by  occasional  sounds  of  distant 
cannonading,  dully  echoing  from  further  down  the 
Valley.  But  one  bright,  crisp  morning  Ziek  ap^ 
peared  before  his  mistress,  garbed  as  of  yore,  save 
for  the  frayed  edges  of  his  huge  standing  collar; 
his  great  eyes  rolling  with  excitement  as  he  cried: 

"Da's  comin'.  Mis'  'Ginia,  an'  I  tinks  I  better 
mount  Selim  an'  reckonloiter  'em  up  da  road." 

Permission  given — for  it  was  the  faithful 
black's  habit  thus  to  scout,  before  each  advance  of 
friend  or  foe — Ezekiel  was  soon  galloping  up  the 
Winchester  pike,  upon  the  lank  mule,  now  sole 
component  of  the  Crag-Nest  stud.  For  the  slick, 
horses  had  long  since  been  impressed  for  artillery 
need;  and  Val — not  without  secret  and  bitter 
tears  shed  upon  his  neck,  embraced  by  her  fair 
arms — had  long  since  sent  her  gallant  chestnut 
to  Kob,  with  a  brief  line  to  urge  him  to  use  the 
horse  as  a  man  should  in  his  country's  need. 


VARVim^   VISITATIONS.  67 

CHArTER  VI. 

VARYING    VISITATIONS. 

Once  more  the  lady  of  Crag-Nest  and  her  two 
girls  waited  expectant  on  the  old  porch,  gazing 
across  the  neglected  lawn,  to  the  now  broken  fence 
and  half  dismantled  gate.  About  the  porch,  and 
the  steps  leading  to  it,  stood  tubs  and  pots,  lifted 
from  the  now  unsashed  conservatory;  but  some 
nameless  sympathy  showed  between  the  plants 
and  their  changed  mistresses,  for  they  seemed 
weaker,  less  thriving  and  somewhat  uncared  for 
in  the  garish,  summer  sunlight. 

And  as  the  expectant  women  waited  the  return 
of  their  faithful  old  courier,  the  sound  of  many 
hoofs  advancing  rapidly  broke  upon  the  air,  draw- 
ing nearer  and  nearer,  until  whirling  dust  clouds 
showed  about  the  turn  of  the  hill  beyond,  and 
through  them  emerged  the  head  of  a  cavalry 
column.  With  clatter  of  hoof  and  clank  of  ac- 
coutrements, the  column — a  considerable  body — 
came  on  and  passed  the  gate;  three  riders  drawing 
out  from  its  head  and  turning  in  toward  the  house. 

"Welcome,  my  kinsman!"  Mrs.  Courtenay  cried, 
running  down  the  steps  with  outstretched  hand 
and  glowing  face,  as  she  recognized  Col,  Calvert. 

A   moment  later,  the   veteran   threw   himself 


58  CRAG- NEST. 

from  bis  horse  with  the  agility  of  a  younger  man; 
but  still  stood  erect  by  his  bridle  until  his  com- 
panion dismounted  more  slowly,  when  both  threw 
their  reins  to  the  orderly. 

"Ah!  Cousin  Virginia!  As  ready  of  welcome  as 
ever,"  the  colonel  cried.  "But  you  know  the  gen- 
eral, of  course.  You  too,  my  fair  kinswomen,"  he 
added  to  the  advancing  girls,  as  he  bent  his  tall 
head  over  the  old  lady's  hand;  then  turning  to 
sweep  both  fair  foreheads  with  his  grim  mustache. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  his  companion  cried  with  a 
merry  laugh,  as  he  too  took  the  matron's  hand. 
"He  were  a  sorry  Virginia  trooper  that  did  not 
know  Crag-Nest  and  its  mistress!" 

"She  were  a  sorry  Virginian,  General,"  the  old 
lady  answered  with  stately  courtesy,  "who  did  not 
feel  it  honor  to  welcome  one  of  your  name  and  race 
under  her  poor  roof.  Will  you  come  in  and  rest 
a  while  before  luncheon?"  she  added  with  a  tele- 
graphic glance  of  warning  to  Val. 

"Thank  you,  we  really  have  no  time.  We  are 
on  a  forced  march,"  the  general  answered 
promptly.  "But  zounds!  Colonel,  I  do  envy  you 
the  perquisites  of  that  gray  mustache!  Would  I 
could  change  it,  young  ladies,  for  this  foxy  one  of 
mine^ — with  the  conditions!"  And  the  general's 
jovial  laugh  rang  out  clear,  as  he  stroked  his  huge 
brown  beard  with  one  hand  and  hitched  up  his 
sword  belt  around  his  ample  waist  with  the  other. 


VARYING  YISTTATIONS.  59 

Rotund  and  short-necked,  but  with  huge  depth  of 
chest  and  vigorous  frame,  the  noted  cavalry  chief 
still  looked  everj  inch  a  soldier.  Port  and  feature 
alike  showed  habit  of  command;  and  the  jovial 
kindliness  of  the  face  spoke  out  from  firm  and 
resolute  feature  and  clear,  keen  gray  eyes.  The 
mouth  was  hidden  b}'  the  long  reddish  mustache 
that  met  the  heavy  beard  sweeping  half  over  his 
chest;,  and  his  raised  hat  showed  ruddy  masses  of 
hair  of  similar  hue.  His  dress  was  the  simple 
shell  jacket  and  high  boots;  the  only  rank-marks 
the  three  stars  and  wreath  upon  his  collar  and  the 
flowing  black  plume,  caught  with  a  star. 

"You  have  heard  the  news.  Cousin  Virginia," 
the  colonel  said  as  his  comi)anion's  laugh  died  out. 
"You  know  that  we  have  been  beaten  back  from 
the  very  edge  of  a  comi^lete  success?" 

"We  have  heard  it  all,"  the  matron  said 
quietly;  "Gettysburg,  Vicksburg — all!  God's 
ways  are  the  best.  Cousin  Wirt;  but  it  is  very 
bitter." 

"It  is  all  in  the  fortunes  of  war,  kinswoman," 
the  old  man  answered.  "I  am  not  so  sure  that  Vol- 
taire was  wrong;  and  those  fellows  at  Gettysburg 
certainly  had  the  heaviest  battalions.  But  I 
asked  the  general  to  stop  with  me  a  moment  and 
advise  you  to  take  shelter  in  Richmond." 

"Yes;  he  is  right,"  the  general  cried  bluntly; 
"Crag-Nest   is   very   exposed    and   on   the   direct 


60  CRAG- NEST. 

highway.  We  do  not  know  surely,  but  I  think, 
for  a  while,  gray  jackets  will  be  scarce  in  the 
Valley." 

"Are  you  not  to  camp  near  us  again?"  Wythe 
asked  eagerly. 

"No;  we  are  force  marching  to  mass  with 
Hampton,"  the  general  answered,  with  a  meaning 
look  at  the  colonel.  "We  were  the  rear  guard 
crossing  the  river.  We  both  think  it  safer  for 
you  ladies  to  seek  shelter  within  the  lines." 

"And  wherefore?  We  have  so  far  been  able 
to  protect  ourselves  from  Yankee  intrusion — of  a 
personal  nature.  Even  those  who  took  our  stock 
and  supplies  respected  our  sex." 

"Perhaps,  my  kinswoman,"  the  colonel  re- 
plied with  a  shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders;  "but 
then  they  knew  we  were  always  close  behind  them. 
From  this  out  we  may  be " 

"Close  in  front,  with  them  behind  us,''  the  gen- 
eral broke  in  with  a  laugh.  "But  seriously,  my 
dear  madam,  your  kinsman  and  I  stopped  solely 
to  give  you  this  warning.  Better  heed  it,  while 
you  can." 

"This  is  my  home;  the  only  one  I  have  known 
since  girlhood,"  the  old  lady  said  gently,  but  very 
firmly.  "It  is  the  second  home  of  these  dear 
children;  and  broken  as  it  is — denuded  of  so  much 
that  could  make  our  friends  happy  beneath  its  roof 
— we  love  it  as  we  could  no  other." 


VARYING  VISITATIONS.  61 

"We  will  be  happier  here  with  her,  Cousin 
Wirt;  happier  here  with  her  than  elsewhere,"  Val 
Courtenay  said  advancing  to  her  aunt's  side — 
"and  as  safe,  under  His  care." 

Colonel  Calvert  only  pulled  his  mustache,  per- 
plexed; but  the  general  said  bluntly: 

"Happier,  perhaps.  Miss  Courtenay,  but  I  doubt 
the  safety.  This  is  not  a  question  of  Providence, 
but  of  war's  necessity.  With  the  Valley  overrun 
and  your  friends  out  of  reach,  you  Avould  be  cut 
off  and  helpless.  I  strongly  advise  your  removal 
within  our  lines,  as  soon  as  convenient." 

"You  had  best  think  seriousl}-  of  this,  Cousin 
Virginia,"  the  colonel  said  gravely,  "before  it  is 
too  late." 

"I  will  think  of  it;  and  I  thank  you  both  for 
your  thought  of  us;"  the  old  lady  answered,  her 
head  still  erect.  "But  can  not  I  induce  you  to 
stay  even  for  a  glass  of  wine?" 

"Impossible,  madam.  Colonel,  we  Avill  have  to 
ride  hard  now  to  overtake  the  column,"  the  gen- 
eral answered;  and  with  cordial  adieux  to  the 
ladies  the  soldiers  were  soon  in  saddle  and  gallop- 
ing after  the  distant  dust  cloud.  The  three  women 
stood  still  and  silent  until  they  disappeared;  then 
Mrs.  Courtenay  cried : 

"Why,  girls!  what  want  of  thought!  None  of 
us  asked  for  Rob  or  Captain  liavanel." 

A  vivid  blush  was  Wythe's  only  answer;  but 


62  CRAG-NEST. 

Val  Coiirtenay,  placing  her  slim  hand  on  the  blue- 
veined  one,  said  quietly: 

"And  shall  we  move  away,  aunt?" 
"I  have  promised  them,"  the  old  lady  answered 
quietly,  "I  will  think  about  it.  But  come,  my 
children,  while  Crag-Nest  is  our  home,  we  have 
duties  in  it."  And  the  three  Virginian  women 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  bright  sunshine  and 
moved  into  the  silent  house.  All  that  day  and  the 
next  Ezekiel  did  not  reappear;  and  the  lonely 
women  wondered  at  his  absence.  But  they  did  not 
grow  uneasy,  for  there  was  no  hint  of  enemy  in 
the  Valley;  and  they  merely  supposed  that,  taking 
the  wrong  road,  he  had  missed  the  friendly  column, 
and  had  wearied  out  his  old  mule  in  search  for  it. 
But  in  the  diminished  household  his  absence  was 
seriously  felt,  though  the  girls  cheerfully  did  all 
they  could  to  fill  his  place  and  lessen  the  extra 
burthens  upon  the  old  negress.  But  on  the 
second  evening,  speculation  ran  into  uneasiness; 
and  the  girls  tramped  several  miles  to  the  nearest 
neighbor  to  make  inquiries  and  organize  a  search. 
It  was  quite  dark  when  they  returned  without 
news;  and  doubt  and  fatigue  made  the  simple 
supper  quieter  and  more  gloomy  than  ever  before. 
That  nameless  foreboding  which  oppresses  some- 
times without  cause,  seemed  to  weigh  upon  the 
household,  sealing  their  lips  like  lead;  and  the 
women   separated  early.     Kissing  her  aunt   for 


VARYING  VISITATIONS.  63 

good -night,  Val  Courtenay  paused  an  instant;  then 
said  gravely: 

"I  have  been  thinking  over  their  warning,  aunt. 
As  we  walked  across  the  mountain  it  seemed  more 
loneh^  and  desolate  than  ever  before.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  safer  to  leave  home — for  the 
present." 

"In  the  hands  of  Providence,  my  child,  we  are 
as  safe  in  one  place  as  another,"  the  old  lady  an- 
swered calmly.  "Surely  you  do  not  fear  these  in- 
solent invaders  more  than  before.  They  have 
visited  us  often  enough  to  be  too  familiar  to  dread. 
But,  never  mind.  As  I  promised  my  kinsman;  I 
will  think  about  it!" 

In  their  own  room,  the  girls  were  soon  ready 
for  rest;  and  Wythe  quickl}"  yielded  to  fatigue  and 
slept  deeply,  if  restlessly.  Val  placed  her  tallow 
dip  in  its  tall,  silver  candlestick  upon  the  night 
stand,  her  watch  near  it,  and  was  about  to  follow 
her  cousin,  when  the  latter  tossed  in  her  sleep  and 
spoke  broken  words: 

"Come  back  to  me — miss  you  so — know  I  need 
you  now — never  loved  Val — ,"  were  the  disjointed 
phrases  that  fell  upon  her  ear.  Pale  as  her  soft 
gown,  the  girl  bent  upon  the  sleeper  glowing  eyes, 
and  a  smile  in  which  pity  struggled  with  con- 
tempt curled  her  lips. 

"Poor  little  fool!"  she  said  slowly  to  herself. 
"Can  she  really  love  that — pshaw!     It  must  be  a 


64  CRAG-NEST. 

passing  fancy  only;  but  he — the  double  traitor,  to 
dare!  And  under  this  roof — before  my  very  face! 
— On!  she  can  not,  really^ — but  poor  old  Eob?  To 
throw  him  over  so,  without  one  word!" — She 
paused  as  the  other  spoke  again — "That  man's 
name!  Silly  child,  you  scarce  deserve  my  pity. 
That,  and  my  contempt  I  should  keep  for  my- 
self!" 

Moving  noiselessly,  she  passed  to  the  old-time 
bureau,  candle  in  hand;  softly  opened  a  drawer 
and  took  up  a  tiny  casket.  Then  she  stood  star- 
ing at  it  a  while;  swift  emotions  chasing  each  other 
across  her  face  as  her  eyes  riveted  upon  the  lid. 
Raising  them  suddenly,  the  woman  caught  her  re- 
flection in  the  mirror,  tall,  weird  and  ghost-like  in 
the  fitful  candlelight;  and  vivid  blush  dyed  the 
oval  of  her  face  and  slim,  soft  curves  of  neck,  at  her 
own  expression.  Then  the  color  died  away,  the 
face  hardened  into  resolution  and  the  lips  set 
firm  and  almost  cruel,  as  she  sprung  the  casket's 
lid  with  firm  hand.  From  it  she  took  a  yellow, 
time-stained  note;  a  dance-card  and  a  dry  and 
crumbling  rosebud — v/hite  once  but  now  black, 
powdering  as  she  moved  it  with  quick  gesture  of 
disgust: 

"Better  one  fool  than  two,"  she  whispered 
through  set  teeth.  "Why  should  I  keep  these 
milestones  on  my  fool's  errand  of  the  past?  What 
is  it  to  me  who  cares  for  him  now !    Fraser  Eava- 


VARVING   VISITATlONti.  65 

nel,  God  knows  I  do  not  hate  you !  May  He  forgive 
me  for  despising  you!'' 

One  quick  clinch  of  the  slim,  nervous  hand,  and 
the  dry  bud  was  powder  in  it.  Then  slowly,  but 
not  trembling,  that  hand  held  the  little  note  and 
dance-card  in  the  sickly  llame;  the  set  lips  once 
more  curling  into  contemptuous  curves,  as  the 
paper  crinkled  and  blackened,  then  fell  into  a 
little  heap  of  gray  ash. 

Slowly  the  girl  turned;  once  more  set  the 
candle  upon  the  stand,  and  placed  the  solid  silver 
extinguisher  over  the  soft  tallow.  Then  she  sunk 
noiselessly  upon  her  knees,  rested  her  forehead 
upon  the  coverlid  and  prayed  long  and  silently. 
At  last  she  rose,  calm  and  placid;  laid  her  head 
upon  the  pillow  and  slept  at  once. 

How  long  had  passed  she  knew  not;  but  sud- 
denly Yal  Courtenay  found  herself  sitting  bolt  up- 
right; wide  awake  and  listening  intently.  Even 
through  the  closed  windows,  the  tramp  of  horses 
came  plainly  to  her  ear;  and  they  were  rapidly 
approaching  the  house.  Springing  up  she  threw 
a  wrapper  about  her,  and  passed  to  the  window, 
peering  into  the  hazy  gloom  without.  Then,  her 
eyes  growing  more  accustomed  to  the  dusky  light, 
she  saw  dim  forms  of  horsemen  moving  swiftly  up 
the  path;  some  halting  directly  in  front  of  the 
house,  while  others  deployed  right  and  left  to  sur- 
round it.     Plainly  they  were  Federals,   for   she 

5 


66  CRAG-NEST. 

knew  that  friends  would  take  no  such  precaution; 
but,  ere  she  had  time  to  move,  a  familiar  voice 
broke  quavering  upon  the  night: 

''Mis'  'Ginia!  Missus!  The  gennelmuns  axes  ter 
be  recebed.'- 

Passing  swiftly  to  the  bedside.  Val  touched 
her  sleeping  cousin  lightly,  saying,  as  she  lit  her 
candle: 

"Don't  be  frightened,  dear.  The  Yankees  are 
here.  Dress  quickly  and  come  down.  I  am  going 
to  aunt." 

She  lit  the  second  candle  as  she  spoke  and 
passed  from  the  room,  the  fitful  gleam  of  the  light 
she  held  aloft  projecting  fantastic  shadows  across 
the  broad  hall,  that,  in  the  midnight  stillness,  had 
frightened  many  a  woman,  in  other  days  than  this. 
But  recking  nothing  of  them,  the  girl  passed 
rapidly  down  the  broad  stair  only  to  find  the  hall 
door  already  open  and  the  tall,  erect,  black  figure 
of  her  aunt,  silhouetted  against  the  gleam  of  the 
candle  sputtering  in  the  night  wind.  And  as  she 
hastened  downward,  Yal  caught  the  clear  voice — 
no  more  perturbed  than  if  ordering  a  glass  refilled 
at  her  own  table: 

"Ezekiel,  why  are  you  disturbing  us  at  this  un- 
seemly hour?  Dismount  at  once  and  go  to  your 
own  room." 

"Dismount,  sir!"  echoed  a  clear  voice  from  the 
darkness  without.     There  was  a  sound  of  quickly 


VARYING   VISITATIONS.  67 

given  orders;  a  clank  of  sabers  in  dismounting  and 
the  click  of  four  carbines  brought  to  a  ready. 
Next  instant  heavy  boots  tramped  up  the  broad 
steps  and  the  tall  officer  in  blue,  flanked  by  Ezekiel 
on  the  left,  stood  facing  the  lady,  within  the  taper's 
feeble  gleam;  while  just  around  it  dimly  showed 
the  muzzles  of  the  carbines;  and  at  the  moment 
Val  Courtenay  passed  to  her  aunt's  side,  without 
a  word,  but  placing  her  hand  quietly  upon  her  arm 
in  token  of  support. 

"What  has  come  over  you,  Ezekiel?"  Mrs. 
Courtenay  queried,  calmly  ignoring  the  enemy's 
presence.  "I  send  you  on  an  errand,  you  stay  un- 
seemly time  and  return  with  strange  men  at  mid- 
night." 

u  'por'  da  Lor!  Mis'  'Ginia,  I  dunna  mysef,"' 
Ezekiel  began,  forgetting  all  his  dignity  in  the 
emergency.  "Da  Yankee  gennelmuns  jess  nabbed 
da  ole  man " 

"It  is  not  his  fault,  madam.  Permit  me  to  ex- 
plain," the  tall  soldier  broke  in,  not  discourteously. 
"We  were  hanging  on  Fitz  Lee's  flank;  but  his 
rear  guard,  under  that  old  firebrand  Calvert,  held 
us  off " 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  interrupted 
with  perfect  calmness.  "As  a  perfect  stranger,  I 
may  save  you  awkwardness  by  stating  that  the 
gentleman  you  refer  to  is  my  kinsman." 

"You  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  him,  madam," 


68  CRAG- NEST. 

the  officer  replied,  passing  liis  gauntlet  over  his 
mustache  to  repress  a  smile.  "Briefly,  your  peo- 
ple outnumbered  and  outrode  us;  we  were  forced 
to  by-paths,  picked  up  this  sable  gentleman,  and 
found  him  as  well  known  to  the  country  side  as 
your  home  is  to  us,  madam.  His  detention  is  our 
fault.  We  have  information  that  old — ahem! — 
Colonel  Calvert,  and  perhaps  bigger  game,  are  un- 
der your  roof.  The  house  is  surrounded,  escape  is 
impossible.  We  want  them."  So  speaking  the 
officer  advanced  one  step  toward  the  door;  the  old 
negro  making  quick  side  step  toward  his  mistress 
and  promptly  facing  him. 

"Stand  aside,  Ezekiel,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  said 
quietly,  "I  can  not  see  our  late  visitors.  To  you, 
sir,  I  can  only  say  that  you  are  much  too  late.  The 
only  occupants  of  this  house  are  three  ladies — all 
unarme<l.  I  regret  extremely  that  you  did  not 
arrive  while  my  kinsman  and  his  friends  were  here; 
for  they  had  given  you  more  fitting  reception  for  a 
soldier." 

"I  am  extremely  sorry,  madam,  to  discommode 
you,"  the  officer  answered  quietly.  "I  am  Major 
Buford,  of  the  —  Pennsylvania  Cavalry.  I  am  in- 
formed that  these  rebel  officers  are  here;  and  even 
at  the  risk  of  incurring  your  displeasure,  it  is  my 
duty  to  convince  myself  that  I  am  wrong." 

"And  pray,  sir,  if  my  word  be  insufficient, 
how   do   you    propose    to     do   this?"       The    old 


VARYING   riSITATTOXS.  69 

lady's  voice  trembled  slightly,  but  plainly  uot 
from  fear. 

"I  regret  that  I  shall  be  compelled  to  search 
the  house,  madam,"  the  ofiicer  answered  decis- 
ively. '^I  shall  give  you  as  little  discomfort  as 
possible.  Already  my  men  are  doing  as  much  for 
the  outbuildings.  Pardon  me,  it  will  not  take 
long.'' 

As  he  spoke  he  pointed  with  his  sword  to 
lanterns  flashing  here  and  there  about  the  open 
barn  and  deserted  negro  quarters,  and  again  rais- 
ing his  hat  he  moved  one  step  toward  the  door. 

The  lady  of  the  house  stepped  back  from  the 
entrance,  her  right  hand  holding  the  candle 
steadily  aloft,  while  her  left  gently  sought  her 
niece's,  as  though  to  restrain  her. 

"We  are  defenseless  women,"  she  said,  with 
much  the  air  ''The  Austrian"  might  have  used 
to  the  rabble  in  the  palace;  "the  sole  resistance 
we  can  make  is  protest.  If,  sir,  your  duty  forces 
you  to  violate  the  proprieties  of  my  home,  I  my- 
self will  conduct  you.  Come,  sir;  this  is  our  draw- 
ing room."  She  flared  the  candlelight  into  the 
empty  room,  as  the  soldier  crossed  the  portal  and 
dolTed  his  hat.  "Valerie,  my  child,  I  must  not 
leave  you  alone;  come  with  us." 

"Pardon  me,  madam,"  the  Federal  said,  glanc- 
ing into  every  corner  of  the  bare  room,  "but  per- 
mit the  negro  to  pilot  us.     The  gentlemen  we  look 


70  *       CRAG-NEST. 

for  are  not  apt  to  come  for  the  asking.  Our  inter- 
view might  prove  unpleasant,  if  nothing  more,  to 
you  ladies." 

"In  my  husband's  day,"  the  matron  answered 
gravely,  "he  permitted  no  stranger  to  enter  these 
rooms  unescorted.  As  his  representative,  I  must 
show  you  no  less  consideration.  Come,  sir.  Time 
must  be  precious  to  you,  and  we  are  wasting  it." 
She  crossed  the  hall  as  she  spoke,  throwing  wide 
the  door  of  her  well-loved  dining  room;  the  Federal 
at  her  right  side,  pistol  in  hand,  and  four  dis- 
mounted troopers  with  ready  carbines  bringing  up 
the  rear. 

So  the  strange  procession  passed  the  lower 
rooms  and  clanked  up  the  broad  stairway;  silent 
and  weird  as  the  phantom  host  that  leaguered  the 
walls  of  Prague.  One  after  another  the  doors  of 
the  vacant  rooms  were  thrown  wide  by  the  firm 
hand  of  their  mistress,  only  to  be  proved  bare  and 
tenantless  to  closest  scrutiny.  But  reaching  the 
door  facing  the  stair's  head,  Val  stepped  swiftly 
forward  and  stretched  her  arm  across  the  casing. 
The  officer,  with  quick  gleam  in  his  eye,  made 
movement  to  advance;  but  the  girl,  catching  his  ex- 
pression, even  in  the  dim  light,  answered  it  as 
quietly  as  clearly: 

"You  mistake,  sir.  I  only  mean  that  this  is  a 
lady's  room."  She  rapped  quickly  on  the  door, 
raising  her  voice  as  she  finished: 


VARYING  VISITATIONS.  71 

"Wythe,  are  you  dressed?"  For  answer  the 
door  •  swung  wide,  and  even  the  rough  troopers 
stared  at  the  pretty  vision  of  the  fair  girl  within; 
pale  and  wide-eyed,  with  golden  hair  rippling  loose 
to  the  knees  of  her  dark  gown.  Timorously,  but 
with  brave  effort  to  be  calm,  Wythe  stepped  for- 
ward and  joined  her  kinswomen.  But  she  carried 
in  her  hand  the  tall  silver  candlestick,  leaving  the 
room  behind  her  in  darkness. 

A  quick  smile  twitched  the  mustache  of  the 
Federal  soldier,  but  his  eye  never  left  the  windows 
reflecting  the  candlelight  through  the  gloom,  as  he 
said : 

•'Your  pardon,  ]\Irs.  Courtenay,  but  we  must 
search  this  room.  The  delay  makes  it  possible 
that  our  quarry  is  here." 

For  the  first  time  the  old  lady's  lips  trembled, 
and  the  angry  flash  came  to  her  eye,  as  the  full, 
rounded  chin  raised  higher,  and  she  began: 

"Sir!  I  have  said  that  this  apartment  is — " 

"Ours,  aunt!"  Val  broke  in  quietly.  "Wythe 
and  I  will  open  our  bureau  drawers  and  hat  boxes, 
if  these — "  she  paused  before  the  word —  "gentle- 
men will  stand  here  and  cover  us  with  their  car- 
bines!" 

Suiting  action  to  word,  she  made  a  quick  sign 
to  the  other  girl;  the  two  passed  into  the  room, 
placing  their  candles  on  the  bureau  and  rapidly 
opening  the  deep,  old-fashioned  closets  and  throw- 


72  CRAG-NEST. 

ing  dresses  and  wraps  hanging  in  them,  out  upon 
the  floor.  Turning  to  the  heavy,  carved  bedstead 
they  wheeled  it  away  from  the  wall;  and  then  the 
elder  girl  turned  to  the  quiet  soldier  at  the  door 
and  asked: 

"You  are  satisfied,  I  hope,  sir?" 

The  officer  again  passed  his  gauntlet  swiftly 
across  his  mustache;  but  he  answered  gravely  and 
courteously: 

"May  I  enter  one  instant?"  And  not  waiting 
for  permission  he  strode  across  to  the  window  and, 
raising  the  sash,  peered  below.  Noting  the  sheer 
drop,  without  cornice  or  foothold  without,  he 
turned  again  to  the  hall;  asked,  by  sign  only,  for 
one  of  the  candles  and,  raising  it  high  above  his 
head,  scanned  the  solid  ceiling  for  trap-door,  or 
roof-scuttle.  Seeing  sign  of  none,  he  turned  to  the 
matron  and  said  quietly: 

"You  must  comprehend,  madam,  how  unpleas- 
ant it  is  for  us  to  have  disturbed  your  rest  and 
made  ourselves  your  unbidden  guests.  Duty, 
though  not  always  pleasant,  must  be  performed. 
And  now,  ladies,  I  will  relieve  you  of  our  presence; 
satisfied  that  our  men  are  not  here,  at  least  in  the 
house." 

"They  are  not  here  at  all,  sir,"  Mrs.  Courtenay 
replied  haughtily.  "Had  they  been,  no  daughter 
of  the  Cabbells  had  misstated  the  fact.  But  I 
must  repeat  my  regret  that  they  are  miles  away, 


VABYIJ^G  VISITATIONS.  73 

with  their  commands;  else  your  reception  had 
been  more  fitting  than  an  old  woman  and  two  girls 
could  possibly  offer.  As  your  duty  here  is  fin- 
ished, I  bid  you  good-night,  sir!  Ezekiel,  attend 
these  gentlemen." 

Ilis  bow  received  by  slightest  inclination  of  her 
stately  head,  the  speaker  moved  to  the  stair  head, 
standing  aside  to  let  him  pass;  the  black  gravely 
led  the  way  down  the  dusky  passage  and  the 
troopers  clanked  down  behind  their  leader.  A 
moment  later  the  recall  sounded  without;  the 
scattered  squads  assembled  for  report  of  failure; 
and  then  the  party  trotted  briskly  down  the  path 
and  were  heard  clattering  along  the  hard  pike 
beyond. 

"Oh!  Aunt,  how  trying  it  must  have  been  to 
you!"  Val  cried,  caressing  the  still  grim  old  lady. 
"But  you  must  have  known  I  would  come;  why  did 
you  go  to  the  door  alone?" 

"It  is  my  place  to  receive  all  visitors  to  Crag- 
Nest,  my  child,  be  they  friends  or  foes.  But — -" 
her  rare  smile  came  to  the  firm  lips — "you  are 
brave  children,  and  do  not  shame  your  blood. 
There  are  some  hours  to  dawn;  go  to  bed  and  sleep 
away  recollection  of  this — intrusion!" 

She  kissed  both  girls  gently;  but  Wythe  cried 
suddenly : 

"Oh!  Aunt  Virginia,  they  were  right!  We  had 
better  seek  shelter  in  the  lines." 


74  CRAG-NEST. 

"Go  to  sleep,  my  children,"  was  the  quiet  an- 
swer. "I  promised  our  kinsman  that  I  would 
think  about  it."  She  passed  slowly  down  the 
stair;  her  voice  coming  back  to  them  in  the  quiet 
order:  "Lock  the  front  door,  Ezekiel,  and  go  to 
bed!" 


THE  FIRST  QUARREL.  75 


CHAPTER  YII. 

THE  FIRST  QUARREL. 

Once  more  summer  was  smiling  serenely  upon 
the  Valley,  ripening  her  sorely  needed  crops — 
however  Nature  may  have  had  cause  to  frown  upon 
man's  brutalizing  her  fair  domain  with  hoof  and 
steel  and  torch.  For  in  the  months  between,  the 
old  familiar  battle-ground  had  had  little  rest;  and, 
while  great  armies  watched  each  other  elsewhere, 
as  bloodhounds  in  the  leash,  raid  and  incursion 
from  either  side  still  scarred  the  bosom  of  the 
"Daughter  of  the  Stars." 

Grant  was  now  thundering  at  the  Petersburg- 
back-door  of  the  coveted  capital  of  rebeldom;  but, 
as  diversion,  Jubal  Early  had  twice  hurled  Jack- 
son's old  soldiers  across  the  Potomac — once  threat- 
ening Washington  herself — then,  in  stern  reprisal, 
laying  Chambersburg  in  ashes.  But  the  wisdom 
of  Lee  now  calls  him  back  to  guard  that  teeming 
granary,  so  vital  to  the  needs  of  both  their  armies; 
for  the  Valley  must  be  held  at  any  cost,  at  least 
until  those  precious  crops  are  garnered,  and  stored 
beyond  the  reach  of  raid. 

And  now  Sheridan — massing  all  force  avail- 
able in  the  lower  Valley ^ — fronts  Early;  cognizant 
as  himself  of  vast  results  to  come  from  his  protec- 


76  CRAG-NEST. 

tion  of  it,  or  from  the  Federals  forcing  liini  beyond 
this  fecund  base  of  bread  for  country  and  for  army 
alike. 

It  is  now  mid- August,  1864,  and  the  ladies  of 
Crag-Nest  still  sit  in  its  barer  halls,  now  overlook- 
ing wholly  waste  fields  and  ruined  outbuildings. 
For,  during  all  those  intervening  months,  Mrs. 
Courtenay  had  been  "thinking  about  it,"  but  had 
never  brought  herself  to  leave  that  well  loved  roof. 
Indeed,  she  rejoiced  many  a  time  that  home  love 
had  triumphed  over  discretion;  for  often  the  home 
— converted  for  the  nonce  into  a  hospital — added 
to  the  comfort,  if,  indeed,  it  had  not  saved  the  lives, 
of  sorely  wounded  friends;  sometimes  of  maimed 
and  suffering  foes. 

For  the  grand  hospitality  that  gave  Crag-Nest 
its  fame  of  yore  was  drawn  from  that  highest 
source  which  teaches  that  the  thirsting  enemy  be 
given  drink;  and  more  than  one  blue  coated  raider 
had  limped  back  to  camp,  blessing  the  tender  touch 
of  womanhood  in  that  Valley  home,  and  had  sent 
its  fame  to  gladden  anxious  hearts  about  distant 
fire-sides.  But  now  the  plants  and  shrubs — still 
more  neglected  and  dejected  looking  than  before — 
remained  always  out  of  doors;  rough  bunks  and 
cots,  spread  with  clean  but  coarse  sheeting,  chang- 
ing their  late  resting  place  to  a  real  conservatory 
for  the  sick. 

Tenantless  now,  the  prim  white  row  of  narrow 


THE  FIRST  QUARREL.  77 

beds  still  spoke  readiness  for  the  worst;  while  the 
old  lady  and  Val  Courtenay  paced  the  now  dingy 
piazza,  with  slow  step  and  quiet  talk. 

''It  will  be  a  true  pleasure,  my  child,"  the  old 
lady  was  saying,  as  she  unfolded  her  well  creased 
letter  and  read  with  unaided  eyes,  ''to  have  our 
kinsman  as  guest  once  more.  See,  he  writes  that 
he  commands  a  brigade  under  Early;  and  that  he 
will  be  in  easy  distance  of  the  home." 

"We  may  expect  him  by  morning,"  the  girl  an- 
swered absently ;  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  tall,  blue 
mountain  top  she  and  another  had  once  watched 
from  the  window,  with  the  moon  upon  it. 

"Yes,  in  the  morning,  my  dear;  and  Wythe  is 
now  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  their  room. 
Major  Eavanel  and  Lieutenant  Robert  Maury,  his 
adjutant,  will  be  with  our  cousin.  It  will  seem 
like  old  times,  my  child,  to  have  the  three  under 
our  roof  once  more." 

"Dear  old  Rob,"  Val  answered  earnestly,  "he 
must  have  proved  quite  a  hero,  to  have  promotion 
forced  on  him  against  his  will." 

"He  is  of  our  blood,  my  dear,  and  naturally  did 
his  duty,"  her  aunt  answered  calmly,  "and  Major 
Ravanel,  too!  Well,  'good  blood  can  not  lie.'  I 
wonder  if  he  is  as  distingue  as  formerly." 

"Doubtless,"  Val  answered,  forcing  herself  to 
the  brief  reply. 

"Of  course,  my  dear."     The  old  lady  folded  the 


78  CRAG-NEST. 

letter,  placing  it  in  the  bosom  of  her  worn  black 
gown.  ''It  is  his  right  of  birth.  The  Ravanels 
are  an  old  family,  wealthy;  and  the  major  is  an 
only  child." 

The  girl's  eyes  came  back  from  the  mountain 
top,  but  looked  straight  ahead,  as  she  answered 
coldly: 

"Yes,  aunt;  his  ma  doubtless  is  very  proud  of 
Major  Ravanel." 

Something  in  the  tone  made  the  old  lady  cast 
a  quick,  searching  glance  upon  the  speaker;  but 
delicate  courtesy  of  the  old  school  refrained  from 
comment,  as  the  girl  turned  into  the  house  with 
the  words: 

''Poor  little  Wythe!  I  must  go  and  look  after 
her." 

She  passed  up  the  broad  stair,  the  fading  light 
falling  across  a  face  calm  but  resolved;  and,  en- 
tering the  open  room  where  her  cousin,  flushed 
with  exercise,  was  viewing  her  completed  work, 
she  said  quietly: 

"Wythe,  dear,  have  you  finished?"  But,  her 
own  glance  answering  her  question,  she  took  the 
other  girl's  hand  gravely  and  led  her  to  the  win- 
dow; both  seating  themselves  in  the  low  seat  made 
by  its  broad  sill,  as  she  added: 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  these  old  rooms  have 
been  used." 

"Not  since  the  — th  Cavalry  first  came  to  the 


THE  FIRST  QUAMREL.  79 

Valley,"  the  younger  girl  replied  quickly.  "Oh! 
Val,  how  long  ago  that  does  seem!" 

Miss  Courtenay's  face  was  turned  toward  the 
far  crests  of  the  Massanutten.  For  a  moment  she 
made  no  reply,  speaking  then  with  her  eyes  still 
studying  the  mountain  top. 

"Wythe,  I  have  never  alluded  to  that  time," 
she  said  gently;  "but  I  have  thought  much  of  it 
since." 

There  was  no  answer,  in  words;  but  an  eloquent 
one  might  have  been  translated  from  the  other's 
sudden  flush  and  decided  pout,  had  her  cousin's 
eyes  been  upon  her.  So,  innocent  of  random  shot 
that  told,  the  former  went  on: 

"We  will  meet  them  again  to-morrow  morning. 
I  hope,  Wythe,  you  will  be  considerate  of  Rob's 
feelings." 

"Are  they  so  very  delicate  that  they  need  nurs- 
ing?" Miss  Dandridge  queried  sharply.  "If  so. 
Aunt  Virginia  might  prepare  a  cot  in  the  hospital 
for  him!" 

The  unusual  tone  and  manner  turned  Val's 
eyes  from  the  crest  to  the  speaker. 

"I  am  surprised!"  she  said  quietly.^  "You 
sneer  at  Rob  Maury  as  though  he  were  a  stranger 
and  an  enemy,  rather  than  the  friend  of  your  girl- 
hood!" 

"A  woman's  tastes  may  change,  I  suppose," 
was  the  answer,  given  with  a  pert  toss  of  the  fair 


so  CRAG  NEST. 

head.  "I  have  always  been  polite  and  just  to — 
your  cousin,  I  hope.  He  certainly  has  no  right 
to  expect  anything  more." 

"I  am  not  sure  of  that,  Wythe.  He  had  at 
least  the  right  to  expect  cordiality  of  old  friend- 
ship; and,  that  failing  him,  to  be  told  the  rea- 
son— " 

''Young  soldiers  can  usually  supply  their  own 
reasons  for  their  acts,"  the  girl  cried,  her  cheeks 
ablaze  and  her  tiny  slipper  tapping  angrily  on  the 
floor. 

"Proper  pride — justice  to  you,  might  have  pre- 
vented his  supposing  that  a  passing  fancy — " 

"Passing  fancy! — Well! — I  think  we  had  bet- 
ter not  discuss  this  further,  Valerie  Courtenay!  I 
don't  know  that  I  need  any  advice;  and  I'm  very 
sure  that  I  have  asked  none!"  And  Miss  Dan- 
dridge  rose  from  the  window  sill  and  stood  angrily 
facing  her  cousin;  her  graceful  head  thrown  back 
and  her  blue  eyes  lit  with  an  angry  light,  that  Val 
had  never  seen  in  them  before. 

"No,  Wythe,"  she  answered  quietly;  "for  the 
first  time  in  our  lives,  my  little  sister  has  shut  her 
heart  to  me.  You  know  I  have  never  intruded  on 
it;  have  never  violated  delicacy  before.  But,  dear, 
these  are  sad,  dangerous  days.  Men  are  cut  off 
suddenly  from  those  they  love;  and  you  would 
never  cease  repenting  injustice  to  a  brave,  true 
gentleman — " 


THE  FIRST  QUARREL.  81 

"He's  a  perfect  boy!"  Wythe  exclaimed  with 
much  heat.  "Pshaw!  he  doesn't  have  a  feeling 
deeper  than  tJiatP'  and  her  rosy  little  thumb 
marked  a  half  inch  against  the  elevated  little  fin- 
ger. "As  for  justice,  well,  I  should  think  he — Val! 
We  have  been  friends,  almost  sisters,  so  long.  You 
are  older  than  I,  but  there  are  some  cases  where  it 
is  best  that  advice  should  not  be  given  until  it  is 
asked — No;  don't  misunderstand.  I  have  never 
blamed  you,  dear." 

"Blamed  me?"  the  older  girl's  eyes  widened  in 
amaze. 

"No!  You  could  not  help  it!  You  could  not 
prevent  a  man's  fancy  changing  from  one  woman 
to  another;  and  the  chance  that  threw  Major  Rav- 
anel  with  me — " 

"Wythe!  What  do  you  mean?  What  right 
have  you  to  dream  such  a  thing!" 

This  time  it  was  Val's  face  that  flushed  hotly; 
its  lines  hardened  and  lips  set  firm,  as  the  full  bust 
rose  and  fell. 

"Dreams  sometimes  come  true,"  the  other  girl 
answered,  tossing  her  head.  "People  should  be 
careful  what  they  say,  and  where  they  say  it,  if 
others  are  to  be  catechised.  Major  Ravanel  and 
I—" 

She  broke  off  abruptly  before  the  quick,  com- 
mandful  gesture.  The  other  woman  stood  erect 
now;  her  tall  head  towering  above  her  friend  and 

6 


B2  CRAG-NEST. 

her  voice  cold  and  slow  under  coercion  of  her 
strong  will,  as  she  said: 

"Enough  of  this!  I  see  now  that  I  was  wise  to 
refrain  before;  very  foolish  to  have  ventured  now 
one  word  of  warning." 

"I  needed  no  warning,  thank  you."  Wythe 
spoke  rapidly  but  defiantly;  no  yielding  in  her 
tone,  or  pose,  before  the  strong  anger  and  reproach 
of  the  other,  as  she  added: 

"The  girl  who  needs  one  once,  is — unfortunate; 
the  second  time,  she  is — a  fool !" 

Val  Courtenay's  face  was  eloquent,  if  her  lips 
remained  silent.  Twice  they  moved,  as  though 
about  to  answer;  but  the  well  trained  will  reas- 
serted itself,  and  without  a  word  she  moved  slowly 
from  the  room  and  down  the  broad  stairs. 

Left  to  herself,  Wythe  stood  erect  and  defiant; 

a  plump,  blonde  Pythoness  for  the  instant.     Then 

the  hot,  flushed  face  changed;  the  red  lips  filling 

to  a  decided  pout,  while  a  sort  of  wonder  crept  into 

the  wide  blue  eyes. 

"I  don't  care,"  she  cried  aloud  to  herself. 
"It's  too  bad!  Val  and  I  never  quarreled  be- 
fore; but  it's  all  his  fault!  The  idea  to  be  thrown 
over  like  that,  and  then  have  her  lecture  me  about 
my  injustice  to  him!  I  hope  I  was  not  mean  to 
Val.  It  is  his  fault  if  I  was,  and — I  don't — I  be- 
lieve I  don't  care  one  bit!"  And  to  prove  it,  the 
spoiled  child  here  dominated  the  newly  asserted 


THE  FIBST  QUABREL.  83 

woman,  and  Wythe  Dandridge — throwing  herself 
face  downward  on  the  colonel's  freshly  smoothed 
bed — indulged  in  the  solace  of  a  good  old-time 
cry. 

But  the  tears  of  pure-hearted  girlhood  are  but 
April  showers;  and  soon  the  sobs  ceased  and  the 
girl  jumped  up,  with  the  rather  irrelevant  excla- 
mation : 

''Lor!  It's  quite  sundow^n;  and  what  must  my 
eyes  look  like!" 

But  hasty  application  of  cool  spring  water  soon 
made  the  pretty,  blue  optics  themselves  again; 
and,  after  hastily  smoothing  the  colonel's  rumpled 
coverlid,  and  taking  a  satisfactory  look  at  her  re- 
flected self  in  the  old  mirror,  Wythe  ran  down  the 
steps  as  though  there  were  no  such  thing  as  w^ar, 
foreign  or  domestic.  She  found  Val,  too,  her  self- 
contained  and  placid  self;  and  the  frugal  supper 
passed  as  usual,  with  no  restraint  between  the 
girls  from  their  first  passage  at  arms.  And  that 
night — when  the  matron  kissed  both  and  begged 
them  retire  early  to  welcome  their  guests  betimes 
— Wythe  slipped  her  hand  into  her  cousin's  very 
gently;  and  the  differing,  yet  loving,  pair  ascended 
to  their  room  without  a  word.  Silently  they  pre- 
pared for  rest;  but  when  the  rosy,  pleading  face 
of  the  younger — rosebud-fresh  as  it  peered  above 
the  snowy  frill  of  her  gown — came  close  to  Val's 
pale,  thoughtful  one,  her  long,  graceful  arms  w^ent 


84  CRAG-NEST, 

out  and  took  it  to  her  bosom  with  the  tender  love  of 
motherhood;  and  her  lips,  now  quivering,  pressed 
close  upon  the  soft,  fair  hair  before  she  said: 

"You  were  right,  and  I  wrong,  little  sister! 
There  are  some  things  which  we  must  leave 
to  heaven,  and  our  own  thoughts  and  hearts  only. 
But,  Wythe,  dear,  we  have  had  our  first  angry 
word — and  our  last.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  forgive 
me,  for  I  know  you  have  already." 

"Forgive!  Why  you  dear  old  Val — ;"  the  fair 
face  was  close  against  the  dark  one  now  and  the 
rosebud  lips  pressed  the  firm  ones  close  and  long — 
"you  have  been  everything  to  me;  and  I  would  not 
have  one  reproachful  look  from  you  for  the  love 
of  every  man  in  the  army  of  the  Valley!" 


A   I'ORTMAIT  EXCHANGED.  85 


CHAPTER  Ylll. 

A  PORTEAIT  EXCHANGED, 

Next  morning's  sun  was  still  young  when 
Colonel  Calvert  rode  up  the  now"  grass-grown  ave- 
nue from  the  broken  gate;  Kavanel  and  Kob  Maury 
following,  and  a  courier  behind  them,  and  reined 
up  before  the  broad  but  rather  rickety  steps  of 
the  well-remembered  piazza. 

But  early  as  it  was,  the  lady  of  the  manor  again 
stood  there  with  outstretched  hand  and  gentle 
smile  to  welcome  them. 

"Ah!  Cousin  Virginia!  As  ever,  upon  the  ad- 
vanced picket  of  hospitality,"  the  veteran  cried,  as 
he  dismounted  from  his  tall  war-horse  and  strode 
gaily  up  the  steps;  his  long  saber  clanking  at  his 
heels.  And  he  bent  his  mustache  to  the  white, 
blue-veined  hand  extended  graciously,  as  he  added: 

"But  where  are  your  fair  young  aides?" 

"They  are  hastening  your  breakfast.  Cousin 
Wirt,''  the  lady  replied,  as  though  a  feudal  suzer- 
aine  welcoming  her  liege  lord.  "Yet  I  fear  it  will 
not  prove  all  that  we  might  wish  for  such  welcome 
guests." 

"And  I  have  brought  them  two  most  unwilling 
captives,"  he  answered  with  a  laugh,  as  he  turned 


86  CRAG-JS^JSST. 

to  his  courier  and  added  in  lower  tone  as  the 
horses  were  led  away: 

"The  larger  bag  on  yonr  saddle,  Conyers,  is  to 
be  given  the  old  negro  man  at  once." 

"I  am  sure  my  cousin  slanders  you,  young  gen- 
tlemen,'' Mrs.  Courtenay  said  to  the  others,  as  she 
gave  them  her  hands.  "Else  our  poor  reception 
of  the  past  must  linger  with  you  still." 

"The  colonel  knows  we  are  only  too  glad  to 
come,  always,"  Eob  Maury  answered  awkwardly, 
and  with  reddening  face.  "I  only  said  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  stay  with  the  brigade,  because  I'm  so 
green  and  am  to  act  as  its  adjutant-general  now." 

"And  I  could  never  have  suggested  riding  by 
your  gate,  Mrs.  Courtenay,"  the  young  major 
added  in  his  soft,  quiet  way,  "had  there  not  been 
some  urgent  need  for  corrected  maps  of  the  by- 
roads above — " 

"Which  can  easily  be  made  from  here,  if  I  may 
occupy  Crag-Nest  with  an  armed  force  for  one  day," 
the  colonel  finished  for  him,  as  he  rejoined  them  on 
the  piazza.  "You  see  I  assume  command  of  my 
brigade  to-morrow;  and  this  brevet  captain" —  he 
laid  his  hand  kindly  upon  Rob's  shoulder — "also 
has  general  orders  to  write,  details  to  make  and 
all  his  plans  to  lay  to  catch  Sheridan.  But  here 
is  our  little  Lily  of  the  Valley!" 

Verily  Wythe  looked  the  title,  as  she  came  into 
the  framing  of  the  great  door,  more  timidly  than 


A  PORTRAIT  EXCHANGED.  87 

her  wont;  her  eyes  cast  down  and  her  cheeks  show- 
ing pale  even  against  the  ruffle  of  her  pure  white 
morning-dress.  Straight  from  the  kitchen — where 
heat  and  rapid  aid  to  Val  and  the  old  negress 
might  well  have  flushed  her — the  girl's  face  re- 
mained quiet  and  pale  as  she  greeted  the  colonel 
and  felt  his  lips  upon  her  brow,  but  it  colored  to 
the  root  of  her  fair  hair,  as  the  Carolinian  quickly 
advanced  and  cordially  extended  his  hand. 

''I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  again.  Major  liavanel," 
she  said  rapidh^,  "even  if  your  title  is  changed." 

"Many  things  have  changed  since  we  last  met, 
Miss  Dandridge,"  he  answered  quietly,  "and  not 
all  of  them  for  the  better — though  you  are  one  of 
the  exceptions." 

"And  I  hope  I  am  not  unwelcome,"  Rob  blurted 
out,  with  lamentable  want  of  tact  for  a  brigade 
officer.  "You  see,  busy  as  we  were,  the  colonel  in- 
sisted we  should  stop  and —  "  He  ceased  abruptly, 
blushing  like  a  girl,  as  the  awkwardness  of  his 
own  speech  struck  him. 

"Aunt  Virginia  would  never  have  forgiven 
him,  had  he  not,"  Wythe  answered  calmly,  but  not 
looking  at  him.  And  somehow  she  chanced  to 
drop  her  handkerchief;  and — stooping  for  it  at  the 
same  moment  as  the  major — failed  to  see  his  half 
extended  hand,  as  she  finished: 

"And  here  is  Val.     She  will  be  so  glad,  too!" 

"Indeed  I  am!"  that  vounc:  woman  answered 


88  CRAG-NEST. 

for  herself,  coming  out  into  the  morning  light,  with 
a  deepened  tint  upon  her  cheek,  for  which  the 
kitchen  fire  might  have  been  excuse.  ''Cousin 
Wirt,  I  began  to  fear  you  were  indeed  a  deserter. 
And  you,  dear  old  Rob!  and  with  shoulder  straps 
at  last!"  She  turned  from  the  veteran's  salute, 
extending  both  hands  to  the  boy;  not  moving  her 
handsome  head,  as  she  added:  ''And  I  congratu- 
late you,  too,  Major  Ravanel,  upon  your  pro- 
motion." 

"Which  makes  it  all  the  more  valuable.  Miss 
Courtenay,"  he  answered,  as  he  unclasped  his 
sword  belt. 

"Oh!  let  me  take  it  for  you,  and  hang  it  on  the 
rack!"  Wythe  cried,  her  blue  eyes  widening  at 
Val's  warmth  to  one  man  and  coolness  to  the  other. 
Her  plump  little  hands  captured  the  shining  steel 
scabbard;  but  his  retained  the  belt,  as  the  mock 
contention  carried  them  within  the  hall,  toward 
tlie  many-antlered  head  that  served  for  rack,  just 
within  it.  And  the  eyes  of  each  cousin  without 
saw  those  of  the  other  follow  the  maneuver; 
though  the  lips  of  neither  noted  it. 

"But  this  is  no  more  gracious  welcome,"  the 
old  lady  exclaimed,  "than  we  gave  Major  Buford, 
of  Pennsylvania,  when  he  came  hunting  you  and 
the  general.  Cousin  Wirt." 

"We  had  a  great  laugh  over  that  letter,  Cousin 
Virginia,"  Rob  cried,  "though  we  were  too  sorry 


A  PORTRAIT  EXCHANGED.  89 

the  Yank  did  not  find  us  really  here.  The  colonel 
read  us  your  account,  down  at  Petersburg.  Why 
you  and  Cousin  Val  acted  like  a  pair  of  heroes." 

'There  was  little  heroism  about  it,"  the  old 
lady  answered  quietly.  "And  Wythe,  too,  behaved 
beautifully,  for  a  girl!" 

And  that  young  lady  hanging  the  saber  on  the 
antlers,  blushed  as  she  heard  the  praiseful  words; 
tinting  deeper  as  her  companion  added: 

"I  am  sure  you  always  would.  Miss  Dandridge. 
But  you  have  not  let  your  household  forget  me, 
I  hope,  because  I  am  unfortunate  enough  not  to 
be  a  Virginian." 

"Indeed,  I  have  not,"  she  answered  frankly. 
"We  have  constantly  spoken  of  you,  quite  as  one 
of  us;  even  when  we  had  no  letters  from  Cousin 
Wirt." 

"I  am  sure  you  have,"  the  man  went  on  ear- 
nestly. ^^You  are  the  sort  of  Avoman  any  man  may 
trust.  I  have  never  forgotten  your  promise,  that 
night  at  the  ball." 

And  Val  Courtenay,  following  the  older  couple 
through  the  doorw^ay,  caught  the  last  w^ords;  and 
across  her  now  pale  face  swept  the  same  expres- 
sion of  mingled  pity  and  contempt  that  had 
marked  it,  in  the  upper  room,  the  previous  after- 
noon. 

Complex  indeed  are  the  hidden  springs  that 
move  that  machine  of  mysteries,  a  woman's  heart; 


90  CRAV-NE8T. 

for — had  her  own  life  hung  in  the  balance  of  her 
truth-telling — neither  one  of  that  gentle  pair  could 
have  put  into  words  the  feelings  in  her  bosom,  as 
Wythe  caught  the  look  that  told  she  was  over- 
heard. Blushing  deeply,  but  with  head  defiantly 
erect,  she  spoke  some  commonplace  to  the  hand- 
some soldier  beside  her;  but  her  own  voice  sounded 
as  meaningless  to  her  as  did  the  half-unheard  reply 
in  the  man's  soft  tone. 

Just  then,  Ezekiel — with  more  collar  than 
usual  rearing  above  the  much-brushed  blue  coat — 
announced : 

"Da  mistus's  breckfus  am  served!" 
The  three  couples  moved  into  the  bough-decked 
dining  room;  and — appetite  replacing  analysis  in 
the  young  adjutant's  mental  outfit — the  guests 
were  soon  hw^j  with  the  viands  pressed  upon  them 
by  their  gentle  hostess.  Rut  it  was  a  meal  far 
different  from  that  last  one — so  clearly  remem- 
bered by  them  all — which  the  military  trio  had 
eaten  under  that  roof;  far  more  different  still  from 
what  that  matron's  will  had  spread  before  her 
guests,  had  Crag-Nest's  larder  compared,  in  any 
sort,  with  the  hospitable  ambition  of  its  mistress. 
And  yet,  simple  and  meagre  as  that  breakfast 
really  was,  the  men  so  plainly  enjoying  it  had  lost 
all  zest  had  they  known  they  were  assisting  at  the 
sad  rites  over  the  last  lone  rooster  on  the  place; 
that  the  light  eorn-waflfles  and  the  yellow  eggbread 


A  PORTRAIT  EXCHANGED.  91 

represented  an  unusual  gap  in  the  well-guarded 
meal-can;  and  that  their  praise  of  old  Esther — 
helpmate  to  Ezekiel — should  justly  have  fallen  to 
the  fair  hands  and  pleasure-glowing  cheeks  of  the 
young  girls,  who  now  sauced  the  viands  of  their 
own  construction  with  pleasant  talk  that  echoed 
nothing  of  the  late  awkwardness  without. 

"Ezekiel,  the  colonel's  plate,"  Mrs.  Courtenay 
cried  gail}',  breakfasting  herself  only  on  a  mufi&n 
— "Just  one  joint  of  the  chicken.  Cousin  Wirt?" 

"Not  one  scrap,  my  dear  madam!"  the  veteran 
beamed,  detaining  the  delicate,  old-time  china. 
"Zounds!  I  have  breakfasted  like  Lucullus,  and 
Esther  is  a  Parisienne  in  dark  masquerade!  I  tell 
you  I  have  often  eaten,  at  the  Trois  Frcres  Proven- 
cemix  itself,  a  specially  prepared  honilmrdc  d'ecrc- 
vifisvs  a  la  Murai  that  had  not  the  delicate  flavor  of 
that  chicken!  The  Yankees  have  left  Virginia 
little  else,  but  they  have  not  captured  all  her 
cooks !" 

"For  your  sakes,"  the  old  lady  answered  with  a 
flush  of  pleasure,  "I  deeply  regret  that  they  have 
left  so  little  for  the  cooks'  skill.  Especially, 
Cousin  Wirt,  I  would  excuse  our  'potato-coffee', 
knowing  your  love  for  the  real  berry;  and  that 
you,  sir —  "  she  bent  her  head  graciously  to  the 
Carolinian — "are  great  coffee  drinkers  in  your  own 
state." 

"  'Better  a  dinner  of  herbs,  where  love  is' — eh, 


92  CRAG-NEST. 

my  dear?"  the  veteran  cried  across  the  table  to 
Val;  but,  unnoting  her  quick  flush,  he  nodded  to 
Ezekiel,  who  moved  from  the  room  more  swiftly 
than  his  butler's  dignity  generally  permitted. 

"Experience  teaches  that  many  of  our  supposed 
necessities  are  merely  habits,"  the  young  major 
said  gravely.  "In  camp,  of  course,  it  makes  no 
difference  to  us,  for  parched  peas  in  a  tin  cup  are 
nectar,  when  we  have  time  to  make  'coffee.'  But 
ma  writes  me  that  even  her  delicate  taste  does  not 
reject  parched  wheat,  or  potato,  when  no  block- 
ader  has  managed  to  slip  into  Wilmington  for 
months." 

"I  hope  your  mother  has  not  forgotten  me,  sir," 
the  hostess  answered.  "Pray  write  her  of  the 
great  pleasure  it  gives  us  all  to  have  jom  under 
our  roof  again.  I  hope  our  troubles  have  not  aged 
her." 

"Not  one  bit!"  Kob  Maury  cried,  pouring  black 
sorghum  over  his  sixth  waffle.  "You'd  think,  from 
her  photograph,  that  the  major's  mother  was  his 
sister.     Show  Cousin  Virginia  her  picture,  major." 

The  Carolinian's  face  was  very  grave;  and  he 
answered  no  word,  as  his  hand  went  into  the  breast 
of  his  shell  jacket,  drew  out  a  worn  photograph 
and  passed  it  quickly  to  his  hostess.  She  took  it 
with  a  bow;  studying  the  face  long  and  closely, 
ere  she  said: 

"She  is  wonderfully  well  preserved,  but  I  think 


A  POBPRATT  EXCHANGED.  93 

I  would  recognize  the  lips  and  chin  anywhere. 
And  she  has  your  eyes,  sir;  and  the  same  black 
hair.  Ah!"  a  sigh  moved  the  worn  silk  on  her 
bosom  as  she  added  gently:  "Time  has  had  some 
bitterness  for  us  both  since  we  met;  but  he  has 
touched  her  most  lightly.  See,  my  dear,  this  is 
my  old  schoolmate." 

As  she  spoke,  she  handed  the  picture  to  Val; 
Rob,  at  her  left  hand,  leaving,  his  waffle  to  pass  it 
to  his  cousin.  But,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  face, 
he  cried  bluntly : 

"Why,  major,  this  isn't  your  ma!  It's  the  other 
one  the  mess  tried  to  tease  you — " 

For  once  the  cool  Carolinian's  poise  was  lost. 
A  burning  flush  rose  to  his  very  forehead,  as  he 
stretched  his  hand  nervously  across  the  table,  and 
his  voice  was  hard  and  commandful  as  he  cried: 

"Return  it,  sir!  a  silly  carelessness!" 

But  even  then  his  eyes  flashed  into  those  of  the 
woman  opposite,  to  find  them  lifted  from  the  pict- 
ure to  his  own,  one  instant  only.  But  in  that 
space  he  read  the  same  contempt  they  spoke  at 
the  riverside,  two  long  years  ago;  and  they  spoke, 
too,  recognition  of  a  face  and  figure  seen  but  once 
before.  Then,  self  discipline  triumphant,  he  was 
himself  again;  and  the  voice  was  soft  and  gentle 
that  said  to  his  hostess: 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  carelessness,  Mrs. 
Courtenay;  and  ma's  for  mistaking  her  picture  for 


94  CKAGJSEST.  ' 

any  other — "  a  quick  flash  of  his  eyes  went  out  to 
Val — ^'Ia(hfs,  value  that  as  I  may." 

As  he  spoke,  his  hand  again  went  to  his  breast, 
returning  the  picture  and  then  proffering  another 
to  the  old  lady,  as  he  added: 

"You  see  ma's  hair  is  as  white  as  your  own; 
that  of  the  other  lady  has  no  silver  in  it." 

''I  ask  your  pardon,  cousin!"  the  colonel  here 
cried  out,  as  Ezekiel  bore  in  a  massive  silver  salver, 
crowned  with  a  venerable  tin  coffee-pot.  But  I 
could  not  resist  a  little  surprise  for  you.  Mrs. 
Ravanel  sent  her  boy  a  rare  present  of  blockade 
coffee;  and  he  disobeyed  orders  and  forced  half  of 
it  upon  me.  Now — smell  that !  and  there's  enough 
in  the  bag  to  last  jnj  cousins  a  month!" 

The  grateful,  but  long  unknown,  aroma 
steamed  from  the  tin,  now  set  before  the  hostess. 
But  an  aroma  yet  more  subtile  and  far  reaching 
seemed  to  fill  the  space  between,  as  the  proud  old 
eyes — moist  and  gentle  now — bent  upon  the  vet- 
eran; the  unseen  essence  of  that  love  and  sejfless- 
ness,  which  permeated  all  who  wrought  and  suf- 
fered in  those  days;  without  which  all  had  long 
since  yielded  to  the  wearing  strain. 

The  brave,  gentle  woman — dauntless  before  all 
threatened  peril — yielded  to  the  more  gentle  as- 
sault upon  her.  The  soft  afterglow  was  on  the  aged 
face,  and  her  lips  trembled  in  their  effort  to  form 
the  brief  words: 

"My  kinsman,  we  thank  you!" 


A  PORTRAIT  EXCHANGED.  96 

Then  the  delicate  tact  of  both  spared  further 
words;  the  colonel  deftly  changing  the  talk  to 
reminiscence  of  that  far  past,  in  Paris;  of  that  so 
different  one,  more  recent  and  nearer  home. 

''Yes;  everything  is  most  uncertain,"  he  said  at 
last.  "I  am  not  hopeless  at  all;  but  we  can  not 
close  our  eyes  to  the  dire  need  for  more  men.  We 
have  learned  to  live  pretty  well  without  supplies, 
and  to  fight  fairly  without  arms.  But  thinned 
ranks  can  not  be  filled  by  sheer  will;  and  Grant's 
boast  was  fact,  that  he  has  forced  us  to  'rob  the 
cradle  and  the  grave.'  Why,  Cousin  Virginia,  Rob 
there  is  a  veteran  to  some  lads  sent  me  latel}^;  and 
I  am  a  very  youth  to  some  old  men  at  Petersburg — 
I  am  sure  that  General  Lee  feels  this  truth;  and 
— though  he  speaks  nothing  of  it — I  feel  that  he 
wishes  the  worst  was  met  and  over  with.  But  the 
president  is  adamantine;  a  man  with  eyes  and  ears 
that  he  can  force  to  see  and  hear  only  from  within. 
Both  know  the  dire  need  of  holding  this  Valley; 
but  Sheridan  knows  it,  too.  A  great  soldier  that! 
And  he  is  facing  Early  with  overwhelming  num- 
bers, and  can  add  to  them  at  will;  while  we — 
Well!" — he  broke  off,  pulling  his  huge  mustache 
thoughtfully  a  moment;  then  adding  courteously: 
"But,  ladies,  I  ask  your  forgiveness  xor  talking 
thus  to  you.  Long  exchange  from  the  drawing- 
room  for  the  camp  must  plead  my  excuse.  And 
now,  major  and  Master  Rob,  look  at  that!" 


96  CRAG-h'EST. 

As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  to  the  huge,  upright 
clock,  carved  and  ponderous,  that  faced  them 
across  the  hall;  and  ere  he  finished,  its  strong 
chime  rang  out  ten  times  upon  the  still  summer 
morning. 

"As  we  are,  none  of  us,  'laggards  in  love,'  gen- 
tlemen," he  added,  bowing  to  his  hostess  as  he 
rose,  "neither  must  we  be  in  war.  This  is  most 
pleasant,  ladies;  but  duty  is  the  stern  mistress  of 
pleasure  in  these  days.  Mr.  Maury,  we  must  get 
to  our  orders  and  details.  Major  Ravanel,  you 
had  best  mount  as  soon  as  possible;  and — with 
your  permission.  Cousin  Virginia — Ziek  can  serve 
his  country.  He  will  be  an  invaluable  guide  for 
cross-roads  and  short  cuts,  major,  for  some  miles 
about  here." 

So  the  breakfast  party  broke  up;  and  Rob 
Maury  sat,  coatless  and  warm,  before  great  piles 
of  muster  rolls  and  orders,  busily  at  work;  the 
colonel,  also  coatless,  sitting  bolt  upright  in  the 
chair  facing  him,  and  aiding  by  a  frequent  brief 
nod,  or  rarer  quick,  short  word  of  suggestion. 

Half  an  hour  later  Wythe  Dandridge  looked 
from  the  window  of  the  kitchen — where  the  pres- 
ence of  both  girls  was  more  necessary,  in  prepar- 
ing dinner,  from  the  old  negro's  service  to  his 
countr}^ — and  saw  the  engineer  officer  mount  his 
horse  at  the  barn.  The  negro  was  already 
mounted  on  the  courier's  steed;  and  the  oflflcer. 


A   PORTRAIT  EXCHANGED.  97 

having  examined  his  pistol  and  returned  it  to  the 
holster,  made  some  hasty  notes  in  a  memorandum 
book,  motioned  to  his  companion,  and  both  can- 
tered across  the  bare  field  through  a  gap  in  the 
fence  and  disappeared  in  the  woods  beyond. 

"He's  riding  the  black,  Val,"  the  girl  cried.  "I 
wonder  what  has  become  of  dear  little  Santee!" 

"How  should  I  know?"  the  other  answered 
quietly.  "I  think  this  will  do,  Aunt  Esther.  Don't 
have  the  fire  too  fast." 

There  was  silence  for  a  long  while;  only  broken 
then,  and  through  all  that  summer  day,  on  tech- 
nicalities, as  the  girls  went  cheerily  enough  about 
their  household  duties;  later  sitting  with  their 
aunt,  over  rough  sewing,  until  dinner  time.  By 
that,  the  young  adjutant  was  more  weary  than 
after  a  day's  march  or  a  hot  skirmish;  and  the  meal 
was  quite  ready  when  the  major  returned,  sun- 
burned and  dusty,  but  seemingly  content  with  his 
day's  work.  He  went  straight  to  the  colonel's 
room  for  report;  the  three  gentlemen  coming  down 
together. 

Serious  matters  seemed  to  engross  them  all; 
for  the  talk  was  less  cheery  than  at  breakfast,  and 
the  colonel  declared  an  early  departure  necessary, 
to  profit  by  the  young  moon.  So,  sitting  together 
on  the  broad  piazza,  until  the  horses  were  brought 
around,  there  was  no  chance  for  tete-a-tete  among 
the  young  people,  even  had  any  of  the  four  shown 

7 


98  CKAO-NEST. 

disposition  for  it.  Rob  talked  apart  with  his 
cousin,  seriously  and  low;  and  Wythe,  rather  ab- 
sent mannered,  seemed  a  trifle  wearied  of  the 
major's  quiet  speech  and  coolly  courteous  manner. 
The  colonel,  too,  was  grave  and  preoccupied,  often 
reverting  to  the  coming  struggle  for  the  possession 
of  the  Valley.     And  finally  he  said: 

"It  is  more  than  a  year.  Cousin  Virginia,  since 
the  general  and  I  urged  you  and  yours  to  seek  safer 
rest,  for  the  present.  What  we  urged  then  is 
more  true  now.  Should  Sheridan  beat  Early  back, 
there  is  no  telling  where  we  may  stop.  You  would 
then  be  cut  off,  and  in  the  enemy's  lines." 

"That  is  true,"  the  old  lady  answered,  with  a 
cloud  upon  her  face  and  a  yearning  glance  into 
the  hallway;  and  a  great  sigh  came,  as  she  added: 

"You  must  be  right.  Cousin  Wirt.  I  will  write 
to  our  relatives  in  Richmond  to-morrow." 

The  veteran  took  her  hand  gently  in  his  brown, 
knotted  one. 

"You  are  a  brave  lady,  my  kinswoman;  and  I 
know  your  courage.  But  I  consider  now  that  I 
have  your  pledge;  that  you  will  move  within  the 
lines." 

The  tall  crown  of  her  cap  nodded  forward 
twice,  before  she  answered.  Then  her  voice  shook 
strangely,  as  she  glanced  at  the  girls  and  said: 

"Yes;  for  their  sake,  I  will  leave  Crag-Nest." 

The  courier  rode  up,  leading  the  horses.     Fare- 


A   PORTHAIT  EXCHANGED.  99 

wells  were  said,  sadly  as  though  omen  of  disaster 
oppressed  them  all.  Val  ran  to  the  handsome  bay 
— her  gift  to  Rob — calling  his  name  and  stroking 
the  nose  he  rubbed  against  her  shoulder  in  old 
friendly  way;  and  Wythe,  on  the  step  called  out: 

"Oh!  major,  where  is  pretty  little  Santee?" 

"I  lost  her,  Miss  Dandridge,"  he  answered 
quietly,  turning  to  arrange  his  saddle  roll. 

"Did  I  not  write  it,  my  child?"  the  colonel  ex- 
claimed. "She  was  shot  under  him  at  Gettysburg, 
as  he  led  a  regiment  in  Hampton's  charge." 

Why,  she  herself  could  not  have  told,  but  Yal 
Courtenay  felt  her  cheeks  burn  red,  as  she  hid 
them  behind  the  bay's  tossing  neck. 

The  colonel  and  Rob  in  saddle,  and  the  latter's 
hand  pressed  by  his  cousin  for  final  farewell.  Last 
adieux  were  spoken;  the  veteran  spurred  on  and 
Val  turned  toward  the  house.  Somehow  the 
major's  girth  was  wrong;  and  the  girl,  passing 
near  him,  heard  the  low  voice,  though  his  head  was 
turned  away: 

"Will  you  not  bid  me  God  speed?" 

"He  knows  I  wish  you  well!"  The  answer 
came  from  scarcely  moving  lips;  but  they  added: 
"For  more,  ask  that  lady  who — " 

He  was  erect;  his  eyes  steadily  on  hers,  his  face 
grave  and  haughty,  as  he  finished : 

"Who  is  the  peer  of  any  in  this  land!" 

And  as  the  low  words  reached  her  ear,  he  had 
vaulted  to  saddle,  spurring  down  the  path. 


100  CRA(J-NE8T. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FROM    THE    OPEQUON. 

Dawn  of  the  19tli  September  broke  hot  and 
sultry;  heavy  clouds  curtaining  the  East,  while 
hot,  dry  puffs  of  wind  sent  dull  and  low  drifts 
along  the  crests  of  the  Massanutten,  like  skirmish- 
ers in  advance  of  the  line  of  battle. 

But  that  sultry  dawn  found  the  household  at 
Crag-Nest  already  astir;  for  its  head  had  at  last 
ceased  ^'thinking  about  it,"  and  had  now  deter- 
mined to  move  her  family — and  what  of  her  house- 
hold goods  she  might — within  the  Confederate 
lines.  Answers  to  her  letters  had  come  from  Rich- 
mond; and,  with  Mrs.  Courtenay  decision  meant 
action.  Two  days  had  been  spent  in  busy  prepa- 
ration; for  the  constant  clatter  of  couriers  at  speed 
and  the  rumble  of  ammunition  and  wagon  trains, 
along  the  Winchester  pike,  all  told  of  early  and 
heavy  action  at  the  front. 

But  the  previous  night  had  redoubled  all  of 
these;  the  tramp  of  heavy  masses  of  infantry 
sounding  continuous;  cut  sometimes  by  the  rattle 
of  swift  moving  artillery  and  again  by  the  rapid 
trot  of  cavalry  squadrons;  while  far  and  near  was 
heard  the  dull  rumble  of  ambulances  of  sick  and 
wounded  passing  to  the  rear. 


FROM  THE  OPEQVON.  101 

And  now — the  cloud-dulled  lances  of  sunrise 
still  failing  to  pierce  the  leaden  dawn — low  rumb- 
ling sounds  echoed  along  the  Valley  gorges  and 
caught  the  ears  of  the  anxious  women.  They  were 
too  continuous  for  thunder;  breaking  at  long  in- 
tervals, only  to  reverberate  again;  and  long  ex- 
perience told  the  listeners  that  Strategy  had  once 
again  bidden  Valor 

"  Cry  'havoc! '     And  let  slip  the  dogs  of  War." 

"It  is  certainly  a  battle,  aunt;  and  between  us 
and  Winchester,  somewhere,"  Val  said,  as  the 
three  women  stood  listening  upon  the  lawn  in 
front  of  the  house.  "As  all  is  ready,  we  had  better 
move  as  soon  as  the  road  is  clear." 

"General  Early  maj^  drive  them  before  him," 
the  old  lady  answered,  with  yearning  glance  up 
at  the  house.  "If  so,  we  Avill  still  be  safe  here. 
And  even  then,  we  may  be  useful  to  some  of  the 
poor,  maimed  boys  sent  back  from  the  victory." 

"But  it  may  be  defeat,"  Wythe  cried,  listening 
intently  to  the  guns— now  roaring  continuous,  and 
seemingly  more  near.  "Kemember,  Cousin  Wi-rt 
said  that  Sheridan  so  outnumbered  Early." 

"Our  outnumbered  heroes  have  conquered  be- 
fore, my  dear,"  the  old  lady  answered  calmly. 
"You  have  not  forgotten  how  Jackson  swept  them 
before  him  down  our  Valley.  But,  my  children, 
we  will  move  to-day;  because  I  have  promised." 


102  CRAG-NEST. 

As  she  spoke,  Ezekiel  came  rapidly  toward  the 
house,  pick  and  shovel  on  shoulder. 

"Mis'  'Ginia,  I's  bin  diggin'  mos'  all  nite,  an'  da 
grabe's  ready." 

"The  grave!  Ezekiel,"  his  mistress  answered, 
surprise  dominating  her  usual  calmness.  "What 
in  the  world  do  you  mean?" 

"Da  majah  ge'en  me  da  wud,"  the  negro  an- 
swered shrewdly,  "da  day  me  an'  heem  reconloiter 
dem  roads.  He  say,  'ole  man,'  sez  he,  'when  da 
ladies  lebe,  you  gwine  berry  all  da  silver  wot  'e 
can't  carry  'long,'  sez  he.  He  ge'en  me  da  wud 
.an'  da  grabe's  ready,  an'  deep,  too." 

"Faithful  old  servant,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  cried, 
"you  are  indeed  a  reliance,  when  our  kin  are 
needed  elsewhere.  And —  "  she  turned  warmly 
to  Val — "how  thoughtful  of  the  major;  so  quiet, 
yet  so  full  of  resource." 

"Very,"  the  girl  answered  quietly;  "but  it  seems 
to  me  the  silver  is  safe  where  we  threw  it  in  the 
cellar  under  old  wine  boxes  and  straw." 

"Mebbe,  missy,"  the  black  answered  promptly, 
"but  da  majah  ge'en  me  da  wud  'bout  dat,  too.  He 
say,  'ole  man,  look  out  fur  da  berry'n'.  Da  Yank 
may  bun  da  house,'  sez  he." 

"Oh!  He  was  right!"  Wythe  cried  earnestly. 
"Burying  it  is  safer." 

"Yes;  they  may  burn  the  house."  Mrs.  Courte- 
nay's  voice  shook  as  it  echoed  the  words;  and,  for 


FROM  THE  OPEQUON.  103 

the  first  time  amid  all  her  trials,  the  brave  old  eyes 
were  full  of  tears,  as  she  lifted  them  to  the  loved 
old  pile.  But  quickly  recovering,  she  turned  to 
the  old  negro  with  the  mien  of  a  general  conferring 
decoration,  and  to  the  girls  as  giving  an  order  to 
charge: 

"Your  fidelity  shall  be  remembered,  Ezekiel — 
Girls,  to  the  cellar!  We  will  all  aid  in  the  safety  of 
my  husband's  silver!" 

Promptly  all  the  four  sought  the  dim  cellar, 
coming  up  itB  narrow  stair  laden  with  silver,  urn 
and  candelabra;  bearing  without  to  the  deep  pit 
in  mid  corn  field.  Then,  an  old  carpet  wrapped 
over  them,  the  negro  packed  down  the  soil,  smooth- 
ing the  surface  and  strewing  blackened  stalks 
above,  to  hide  its  freshness. 

Some  hours  later,  all  was  ready;  each  sash 
and  shutter  closed,  and  only  the  great  hall  door 
still  wide,  as  though  regretful  to  end — even  for 
a  while — its  hospitable  invitation.  Near  it,  on  the 
piazza,  the  two  girls  stood  with  sad  faces  and 
moist  eyes;  lunch  basket,  wraps  and  what  bag- 
gage there  was  room  for,  piled  upon  the  step.  And 
INIrs.  Courtenay,  bonneted  and  gloved,  moved 
slowly  from  one  dim  and  empty  room  to  another, 
fixing  her  eyes  yearningly  upon  every  detail  of 
each,  as  though  to  stamp  it  indelibly  upon  her 
memory. 

Meanwhile,  the  cannonading  grew  more  fitful, 


104  CRAG-NEST. 

often  ceasing  wholly  for  a  while,  but  each  time 
its  renewal  seemed  more  clear,  and  now — as  the 
two  girls  stood  intently-  listening  for  the  next  re- 
port— it  came  so  distinctly  that  the  separate  guns 
were  noted;  and  the  mountain  breeze,  now  spring- 
ing up,  bore  through  the  gorges  of  the  Massanut- 
ten  the  rattle  of  musketry,  plainly  distinguish- 
able. 

"Wythe,  they  are  driving  us!"  Val  cried,  turn- 
ing a  pale  face  to  her  cousin.  "God  grant  I  am 
mistaken!     But  they  are  beating  our  boys  back!" 

Wythe's  face,  too,  was  colorless,  but  with  no 
fear  in  the  blue  ej^es  as  they  turned  toward  the 
sound,  and  she  answered: 

"I  fear  you  are  right,  Val.  God  guard  those 
dear  to  us!" 

Still  the  mistress  of  the  house  kept  her  slow 
walk  through  the  deserted  rooms,  deaf  to  the  omin- 
ous sounds  without;  to  all  save  the  whisper  of  that 
inward  voice,  ever  repeating,  dirge-like:  "Leav- 
ing the  old  home  forever!" 

But  at  last  Val's  call  aroused  her  from  sad  day- 
dreaming; for  now  the  old  negro  was  leading  up 
the  path  from  the  barn  the  old  mule,  harnessed  to 
the  old  barouche,  that  was  to  bear  the  refugees  on 
their  long  and  tedious  journey.  And  still  the 
cannon  boomed  nearer  but  less  frequent,  while 
the  rattling  crash  of  small  arms  volleyed  nearer 
and  more  near.     Grave  and  sad,  but  calm  still, 


FROM  THE  OrEQUON.  105 

the  mistress  of  the  house  passed  its  portals,  never 
daring  to  trust  her  eyes  one  backward  glance.  But 
she  sijoke  Aery  calmly  and  gently: 

"It  is  hard  to  leave  you  behind,  Ezekiel;  but 
someone  must  watch  the  old  home,  even  were 
there  room  and  were  Selim  equal  to  greater  load. 
And  you  could  not  leave  her — "  She  turned  to 
the  bent  old  negress  who  had  crept  toward  the 
group,  her  apron  over  her  head;  her  lank  body 
rocking  from  side  to  side,  in  her  race's  strongest 
token  of  woe.  "Good,  faithful  friends,  both!  The 
Great  Master  will  reward  you  better  than  your 
poor  mistress  can." 

With  courteous  dignity,  grand  in  its  gentle- 
ness, she  took  the  hard,  black  hands  of  man  and 
wife  in  her  slim  black  gloves.  But  no  further 
word  was  spoken  when  she  released  them;  and 
Ezekiel  began  packing  the  bundles  carefully  in 
the  vehicle. 

Suddenly  hoofs  sounded  on  the  road  beyond. 
Around  the  curve  dashed  a  foaming  horse,  his 
rider  hatless,  without  arms,  bending  on  his  neck 
and  spurring  as  though  for  life.  With  one  impulse 
the  girls  sped  across  the  iield  to  the  fence,  scream- 
ing after  him  some  query,  drowned  in  the  clatter 
of  hoofs.  But  as  they  reached  the  fence  another 
came;  soon,  another,  and  then  a  squad — all  reck- 
less, abject,  maddened  by  panic,  as  they  dashed 
up  heedless  of  query,  or  answering  only  by  sign. 


106  CRAG-NEST. 

Pale  with  suspense — but  not  with  fear — both 
women  leaned  over  the  fence,  straining  their  eyes 
up  the  road;  for  the  sounds  of  cannonading  had 
died  away  and  only  scattered  firing  of  small  arms 
now  was  heard.  And  soon  another  horseman 
spurred  along,  but  not  so  fast;  a  ghastly  stream 
M'elling  down  his  face  from  the  red  handkerchief 
that  bound  his  head,  as  he  swayed  from  side  to 
side  in  saddle.  Val  was  over  the  fence  and  in  the 
road,  screaming  as  he  came: 

''What  news?" 

"Opequon !  —  Struck  our  right !  —  Early  de- 
stroyed— ,"  the  wounded  man  cried  back,  but  never 
drawing  rein. 

Then  came  more  flying  riders,  singly  and  in 
groups;  many  hatless,  some  coatless,  most  of  them 
unarmed;  the  wretched,  ghastly  advance  guard  of 
a  cavalry  rout.  But  one  and  all — where  panic 
let  them  speak  at  all — told  the  same  shameful 
story  of  destruction,  defeat  and  rout. 

"^^al!  We  must  go  back  to  her.  We  know 
all  now,  and  can  do  no  good  here."  Wythe's  face 
was  very  pale,  but  her  voice  was  clear  and  brave ; 
and  Val,  with  never  a  glance  at  the  oncoming 
group,  clambered  over  the  fence  once  more  and 
they  moved  rapidly  toward  the  house. 

"I  know  it,  my  children,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  said 
calmly,  before  either  could  speak.  "Sheridan  has 
beaten  us.     There  w  ill  be  work  for  us  to  do  here. 


FROM  THE  OPEQUON.  107 

Ezekiel,  take  the  carriage  back.  For  the  pres- 
ent, we  will  remain  at  home!''  - 

The  hours  of  that  afternoon  dragged  them- 
selves along  with  suspense-clogged  feet,  for  those 
anxious  watchers  on  the  old  piazza.  They  had 
promptly  opened  the  house,  piled  their  luggage 
in  the  hall  to  be  read}^  for  emergency,  and  made 
"coffee"  for  a  hasty  and  meagre  lunch.  Then, 
they  could  only  wait  and  watch  for  the  outcome 
of  that  disaster,  the  extent  and  consequence  of 
which  they  could  not  even  conjecture. 

But  it  was  plain  that  they  were  fortunate  in  not 
having  left  the  home  shelter;  for  the  Winchester 
pike^ — along  which  their  road  laid — rapidly  grew 
more  crowded  with  flying  squads,  first  mounted 
and  later  on  foot;  all  in  mad  rush  rearward  for 
some  unknown  point  of  safety.  And  later  lum- 
bered by  some  creaking  wagons,  with  supplies  or 
wounded  men;  their  drivers  urging  their  jaded 
beasts  with  whip  and  heel. 

The  sun  having  routed  and  chased  away  the 
massed  clouds  of  the  morning,  now  beamed  down 
hotly,  half  way  'twixt  the  zenith  and  his  rest,  as 
a  great  mass  of  gray  jackets  hurried  round  the 
road's  curve  almost  on  the  run,  confused,  half- 
armed  and  wholly  demoralized.  Among  them 
flashed  many  a  red  or  yellow  facing,  telling  that 
artillery  and  cavalry  were  aiding  the  rout  of  the 
flying  infantry;  but  through  and  flanking  them 


108  CRAG-NEST. 

dashed  mounted  officers,  brandishing  their  pistols 
and  striving  bj  voice  and  gesture  to  shame  the 
panic  back  to  discipline. 

Suddenly,  out  of  the  ruck  one  rider  spurred 
across  the  road,  taking  the  fence  and  galloping 
wildly  toward  the  house,  pistol  in  hand;  and,  ere 
the  others  could  speak,  Wythe  Dandridge's  face 
flushed  crimson,  but  her  wide,  blue  eyes  never  left 
the  wild  rider,  as  she  cried: 

''Look!— Rob  Maury!" 

Throwing  his  horse  almost  on  his  haunches  at 
the  step,  the  boy  cried : 

"Thank  God!  You  are  here — not  there!"  He 
pointed  to  the  road.  "Keep  close— be  brave!  It 
will  soon  change!  Not  a  minute  to  stop!  We 
must  turn  those  curs!" 

Little  like  a  boy  he  looked  now;  erect  and 
strong  in  saddle,  as  Yal's  pet  horse  stood  statue- 
like, with  heaving  flanks.  Hatless,  his  powder- 
stained  and  muddy  jacket  flung  wide  and  the 
coarse,  blue  shirt  thrown  back  from  the  broad, 
laboring  chest,  there  was  the  grim  set  in  Rob 
Maury's  features  the  charge  of  Torbert's  men  and 
the  break  of  his  own  brigade  had  left  there;  and 
through  the  firm  lips  and  flashing  eyes  spoke  char- 
acter before  undreamed  of,  even  by  the  three 
women  hurrying  down  the  steps  with  eager  query. 

"Thoburn  struck  us  on  the  right,"  he  answered 
rapidly.  "Our  green  men  took  panic;  the  veterans 
could    not   stand    their   shock.      Can't    tell    any- 


FROM  THE  OPEQUON.  109 

thing  of  the  fight;  have  ridden  miles,  trying  to 
rally  those  sheep!  Yes,  the  battle's  over;  firing 
has  ceased.  If  the  center  and  left  broke,  too,  the 
Luray  road  below  is  worse  than  this!" 

"And  our  friends?"  Mrs.  Courtenay  asked 
briefly. 

"The  colonel  swept  by  me  like  a  lion,  leading 
in  our  old  regiment,"  the  soldier  answered.  "He 
ordered  me  to  rally  the  break.  Oh!  if  I  could  only 
have  ridden  at  them  by  him !  But  I  must  go ;  only 
stopped  to  warn  you  all.  Good-b^^e.  God  bless 
you  all!" 

Two  women's  hands  held  his;  only  their  grave 
eyes  making  mute  answer  through  the  mists  in 
them.  But  the  youth's — leaving  theirs  in  yearn- 
ing wonder — saw  Wythe  Dandridge  hastening 
from  the  hall,  a  huge  dipper  of  Avater  in  her  hands. 

"You  must  be  thirsty,"  she  said  softly,  holding 
it  up  to  him,  but  never  lifting  her  eyes  from  the 
ground. 

"Oh!  Thank  you!"  Only  three  trite  words; 
but  the  color  shone  bright  through  the  sweat- 
streaked  battle  grime  on  his  face,  as  he  took  the 
dipper  and  drank  like  a  famished  animal. 

"And  take  this — please f^  the  little  hands  held 
up  the  package  of  lunch  prepared  for  their  own 
use;  but  still  the  eyes  never  raised. 

"Yes;  take  it,  my  son,"  the  old  lady  said.  "God 
speed  and  protect  you!" 

He  was  gone;  crossing  the  field  at  a  wild  gal- 


]  10.  CBAG-N£ST. 

lop,  clearing  the  fence  below  and  plunging  through 
the  woods  to  head  the  fugitives  now  past. 

At  last  the  long  day  of  suspense  wore  toward 
its  close. 

The  victor  sun  slowly  withdrew  behind  the 
western  hills,  and,  ready  for  his  nuptials  with  the 
Night,  sent  hot  reflection  of  his  triumph  over  them 
above  the  leaden  clouds,  low-lying  in  the  East. 
And  still  waiting,  the  women  sat  together; 
strangely  silent  in  words,  but  reading  each  other's 
thoughts  as  they  traveled  to  the  battle-field  be- 
yond, and  sought  to  penetrate  its  clouds  for  token 
of  friends,  perhaps  stretched  upon  it — suffering  or 
dead. 

Nor  did  the  lessening  tumult  on  the  road  near 
by  relieve  their  unspoken  anxiety.  Less  frequent 
squads  passed  the  gate,  but  these  even  more  de- 
moralized and  in  rapid  flight;  and  the  lull,  after 
the  last  of  them,  was  broken  by  orderly  tramp  of 
cavalry;  as  heavy  force  of  Thoburn's  troopers  trot- 
ted swiftly  by  in  close  pursuit.  But  suddenly,  Val 
Courtenay's  eyes — turned  from  the  now  still  and 
empty  pike^ — stared  steadily  tow^ard  the  woods  be- 
hind the  house;  what  color  was  left  in  her  grave 
face  falling  out  of  it.  For,  in  that  very  gap  in  the 
old  fence — through  which  Wythe  had  noted  the 
absence  of  Santee,  the  day  Ezekiel  rode  off  with 
Major  Ravanel — the  girl  saw  an  ugly  picture  sil- 
houette itself  against  the  dying  sunset. 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  HI 


CHAPTEH  X. 

BEYOND    THE    LINES. 

A  man  on  foot  moved  slowl}^  through  the  gap; 
leading  his  own  horse,  and  suj)porting  in  the  sad- 
dle of  another  the  tall,  swaying  form  of  a  wounded 
comrade.  And,  the  two  women,  following  Val's 
fixed  gaze,  all  rose  without  one  word  and  passed 
down  the  steps  to  meet  the  unbidden  but  suffering 
guest,  should  he  prove  a  friend  or  foe.  But  as  the 
pair  moved  toward  them,  through  the  open  field, 
and  the  light  grew  more  clear,  all  three  hastened 
forward  in  a  run;  but  only  the  eldest  spoke: 

"Our  cousin — badly  hurt!" 

It  was  indeed  the  gallant  old  Calvert,  faint, 
scarce  able  to  keep  his  saddle,  and  held  there  only 
by  the  firm  hand  of  Fraser  Kavanel. 

"Is  he  much  hurt,  sir?" 

The  old  lady's  face  was  very  white;  but  her 
voice  never  shook  in  the  query;  and  before  the 
younger  officer  could  speak,  the  veteran — braced 
by  the  familiar  voice — sat  up  in  saddle  and  an- 
swered feebly: 

"A  hard  hit,  cousin,  but  not — "  he  paused  an 
instant;  a  spasm  of  pain  crossing  his  ghastly  pale 
face.     Then  his  teeth  closed  hard  on  the  gray  mus- 


112  CRAG-NEST. 

tache,  as  he  added — ''Zounds!  Enough  to  give 
you  some  trouble  with  me." 

Gentle  hands  raised  to  support  him  on  the 
other  side;  and  Wythe,  without  a  word,  slipped  the 
bridle  from  RavanePs  arm  and  led  his  tired  black, 
the  brute's  intelligence  noting  the  light  touch  upon 
the  rein  and  following  like  a  pet  dog.  Slowly  they 
reached  the  steps;  the  grim  old  soldier  at  once 
braced  himself  to  move  his  numbed  feet  from  the 
stirrups.  But  the  younger  man  spoke  quickly  and 
firmly: 

^'Steady,  sir!  Do  not  move  hand  or  foot.  Call 
the  negro,  j^lease."  He  turned  to  Yal  and  she  flew 
toward  the  kitchen;  meeting  Ezekiel  already  run- 
ning up.  With  short,  strong  words  of  caution  and 
direction,  the  Carolinian  led  the  horse  close  to  the 
piazza;  then,  with  all  their  strength,  the  pair 
raised  the  colonel  softly  from  his  seat  and  bore 
him  to  the  broad  old  sofa  in  the  parlor.  Soft,  but 
experienced  hands  removed  his  jaclvot;  by  degrees 
the  high  thigh  boots  yielded  to  Ravanel's  skilled 
strength,  and  the  veteran  lay  pale  and  motionless, 
but  breathing  easily,  as  one  woman  bathed  his 
fevered  forehead,  another  placed  spoonfuls  of  whis- 
key to  his  lips  and  the  third  slowly  fanned  the 
drawn  face. 

Rapid  field  surgery  had  cut  away  the  boot  top 
and  riding  pants,  and  a  broad  bandage  of  coarse 
cloth  was  wound  about  the  thigh,  hip  and  side;  but 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  113 

it  was  soaked  with  blood  and  stiffened  hard,  as 
Val  gently  moistened  it.  And  her  eyes  raised  to 
the  other  man's  in  mute  query;  but  he  answered 
promptly: 

''No,  do  not  attempt  removal.  The  surgeon 
was  em[>hatic.     Moisten,  but  do  not  loose  it." 

And  the  wounded  soldier — reviving  under  stim- 
ulant— opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  feebly,  as  he 
saw  the  watchers  near;  and  his  faint  voice  mur- 
mured: 

''Brave,  true  women!  Always  thinking  of 
others."  He  tried  to  wave  his  hand,  but  it  fell 
back  by  his  side,  as  he  added  feebly:  "Don't  be 
alarmed — good  as  two  dead  men!  Pardon  the 
trouble — I  give!" 

Then  exhausted  Nature  called  for  relief  upon 
her  gentlest  soother,  Sleep;  and — sure  that  he  was 
resting  easy — aunt  and  niece  softly  followed  Rav- 
anel  outside,  leaving  the  younger  girl  to  fan  the 
sleeper. 

"How  was  he  hurt,  sir?"  Mrs.  Courtenay  asked 
in  anxious  whisper. 

"Struck  in  the  thigh  with  a  fragment  of  can- 
ister," the  soldier  replied  gravely.  "We  were 
forced  back  slowly  for  a  mile.  Then  the  new  men 
broke  and  it  was  a  race  for  miles.  At  the  cross- 
ing above  he  rallied  the  old  regiment,  turned  it 
on  the  pursuers,  driving  them.  Far  ahead  of  his 
line,  he  was  struck  almost  from  his  horse.     The 

8 


114  CRAG-NEST. 

men  fled  in  panic;  but  I — "  he  hesitated  only  a 
moment — "was  fortunate  enough  to  bring  him  off, 
knowing  the  little  cross-roads.  Greer,  the  brigade 
surgeon,  saw  us  escape  the  chase  and  followed  in 
the  wood.  It  was  providential;  or  he  would  have 
bled  to  death  on  the  spot." 

The  old  lady  grew  whiter  and  her  lips  trem- 
bled as  they  whispered : 

"An  artery  severed?" 

"A  large  one,  in  the  thigh,"  he  answered 
promptly.  "Greer  tied  it;  told  the  colonel  plainly 
the  danger  of  motion,  and  advised  surrender  for 
safety.  The  colonel  sternly  refused ;  said  he  would 
die  in  preference,  and  ordered  me  to  mount  him 
and  take  him  to  the  rear." 

"Will  he  recover,  sir?"  The  query  was  cold 
and  grave,  but  in  firm  voice. 

"God  only  knows,  ma'am.  He  has  lost  much 
blood,  but  has  wonderful  vitality.  He  must  be 
absolutely  still;  the  great  danger  is  hemorrhage. 
Greer — if  he  eluded  the  pursuit — should  be  here 
soon.  He  promised  to;  when  he  had  tended  two 
desperately  wounded  officers." 

"My  cousin  shall  have  every  care.  Major  Rava- 
nel,"  the  matron  answered;  "and  your  presence 
will—" 

"I,  madam!"  he  exclaimed.  "Why,  I  should 
not  be  here  now,  but  aiding  to  rally  and  intrench 
our  shattered  force.     I  must  get  to  saddle  at  once." 


BEYOJSTD    THE  LIXES.  115 

"You  must  do  your  duty,  sir,-*  Mrs.  Courtenay 
answered  gravely.  "We  will  tvj  to  do  ours,  when 
you  go — "Wait  one  minute,  please." 

She  turned  softly  into  the  house;  and  there — 
for  the  first  time  in  three  years — under  the  shadow 
of  great  calamity  and  possibly  death — the  young- 
man  and  woman  were  together  alone. 

"You  have  put  us  under  great  debt  of  grati- 
tude. Major  Ravanel.  You  have  acted  like  a 
brave — "  imperceptibly  almost  she  hesitated  be- 
fore the  word — "soldier." 

"I  have  done  my  simple  duty,  Miss  Courtenay," 
he  answered  low.  "You  remind  me  that  I  neglect  it 
now.  One  look  at  our  beloved  commander,  and  I 
must  be  gone."  He  turned  to  the  door;  pausing 
suddenly  as  the  clear  note  of  a  bugle  echoed 
through  the  darkness,  adding  half  to  himself:  "A 
Yankee  bugle — the  recall.     The  pursuit  is  off." 

And  he  was  right.  Thoburn's  men  had  fol- 
lowed far  and  fast;  taking  prisoners  sometimes, 
vengeance  at  others,  until  the  scattering  fugitives 
led  them  through  strange  roads  and  into  the 
woods.  Then  the  late  chastening  hand  of  the  all- 
seeing  Mercy  dropped  the  veil  of  Night  between 
pursuer  and  pursued. 

Quietly  but  swiftly  the  soldier  passed  to  his 
comrade's  side;  looking  down  on  the  pale,  quiet 
face  in  the  dim  candle-light,  with  his  own  scarcely 
less  still  and  placid.     Then  Mrs.  Courtenay  came, 


116  CRAG-NE8T. 

bearing  with  her  own  hands  food  and  a  small  de- 
canter, as  she  beckoned  him  to  the  door  and  whis- 
pered : 

"You  must  be  exhausted,  sir.  Before  you  eat, 
have  some  old  brandy." 

"Thanks,"  he  whispered  back.  "But  I  have  no 
time  to  eat;  and  I  have  not  tasted  liquor  since  the 
war  began.  I  promised  ma;  and — "  his  face  har- 
dened strangely — "I  have  good  reason  to  keep  my 
pledge." 

Again  the  bugle-note  cut  the  night,  now  close 
beyond  upon  the  road;  and  Val  Courtenay  ran  in, 
exclaiming: 

"They  are  here!  I  think  they  halted  at  the 
gate!" 

"I  must  be  off  then.  I  can  not  be  taken  here — 
away  from  the  command!  Good-bye,  ma'am — God 
guard  you  and  yours!" 

He  moved  rapidly  out  as  he  spoke;  pausing  on 
the  step  to  say: 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Courtenay.  If  we  never  meet 
again — " 

"Quick!  They  are  coming!"  as  the  clank  of 
arms  and  tramp  of  hoofs  again  sounded  at  the  gate. 

Without  answer  he  bent  very  low  to  the  ground, 
his  ear  turned  eagerly  toward  the  barn;  and,  even 
before  he  spoke,  the  girl's  acute  sense  caught  the 
soft  footfall  of  horses  in  that  direction. 

"They    are    there!"    he    whispered    hoarsely. 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  117 

"They  have  my  horse  and  I  am  cut  off.  I  must  not 
be  taken.  Show  me  the  back  door;  I  can  escape 
that  way!" 

As  if  in  answer,  another  bugle  sounded  on  the 
road  above;  showing  another  party  approaching 
from  that  side;  and  by  this  time  the  horsemen  from 
below  were  nearly  at  the  house. 

"I  am  trapped!"  he  said  quietly  but  bitterly, 
as  his  hand  went  instinctively  to  his  pistol,  ''but 
I  icUl  not  be  captured  here!" 

The  girl  placed  restraining  hand  upon  his  arm ; 
her  voice  very  low,  but  very  clear,  as  she  said: 

"Major  Ravanel,  no  one  can  doubt  your  cour- 
age; but  one  man  can  not  fight  the  Yankee  army. 
Sometimes  strategy  is  equal  to  courage.  In  here 
— quick!" 

As  she  spoke  she  turned  to  the  great  clock- 
massive  and  black  in  the  shadow  of  the  hall;  dully 
ticking  what  might  be  his  comrade's  deathwatch 
— and  swung  wide  the  great  door. 

"Get  in  quickly;  they  are  here!"  she  said  again; 
and  Mrs.  Courtenay  moving  to  the  door,  whispered : 

"Obey  her!  Resistance  is  folly!  Remember 
your  country  and  your  mother  need  you." 

Without  reply  he  stepped  into  the  dark,  coflfin- 
like  recess;  and  next  instant  Yal  stood  statue-like 
by  her  aunt  in  the  doorway,  as  a  squad  of  horses 
halted  and  faced  toward  the  house.  Its  burly, 
yellow-bearded    commander    and    two    aids    dis- 


118  CRAONE8T. 

mounted  and  ascended  the  steps;  and  the  former 
gruffly  asked,  with  strong  accent: 

''Vel,  who  vos  dis  house  belong  to?" 

"To  me,  sir,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  answered  with 
stately  dignity. 

"Oh — ho!  Dat  vos  so?  Vel,  den,  andt  who 
you  vos?" 

"A  lady,  sir,"  the  matron  answered  with  em- 
phasis, "as  3^ou  might  learn  from  many  gentlemen 
in  either  army." 

"Vel,  den,  my  laty,  ve  haf  got  hungry  chasen 
ter  tam  Shonnies.     Ve  vandt  someding  ter  eat." 

"And,  first,  sir,  may  I  ask  whom  I  have  the 
honor  to  address?" 

"Yah!  I  haf  ter  dell  you  my  rang  is  Macher 
Einvasserschwein,  commanting  der  segund  reg- 
mend  von  Buford's  brigade,  andt  I  be  tam  hungry, 
too." 

For  one  instant  the  old  gentlewoman  hesitated, 
the  blood  mounting  to  the  roots  of  the  gray  coro- 
net, and  her  slim  hand  clinching  at  the  coarse 
words.  The  next,  supreme  sense  of  duty  to  others 
controlled  her  wrath;  and  her  voice  was  coldly 
calm  as  she  answered  low: 

"Speak  lower,  please;  we  have  illness  in  the 
house.  It  is  alwaj's  with  regret  that  I  refuse  hos- 
pitality, even  to  a  stranger;  but  now  I  can  not  give 
supper  to  your  men,  simply  because  we  have  no 
food  in  the  house." 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  119 

"So-o-o!  Andt  I  shall  expecdt  myselve  ter  be- 
leeve  dot,  ain'd't?"  and  the  man  guffawed  loudly, 
as  he  punched  his  aid  in  the  side,  and  added: 
"Dat  vas  foine,  don'd't?" 

"I  must  insist,"  rather  testily  this  time,  "that 
you  make  less  noise.  My  cousin  is  very  ill,  and 
waking  suddenly  might  cause  death." 

''So-o-o!  Your  cousin  vos  eel?  Andt  w^ho  vos 
her  name?" 

"//c  is  Colonel  and  Brigade  Commander  Wirt 
Calvert  of  the  Confederate  Cavalry!"  the  old  lady 
answered,  with  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Cabbells 
rushing  to  her  face.  "He  fought  you,  sir,  like  a 
brave  gentleman,  when  well.  //  jou  are  a  soldier, 
respect  his  desperate  wound." 

As  she  spoke,  again  the  bugle  sounded  close 
and  clear,  at  the  turn  of  the  road  above;  the  tramp 
of  a  large  body  of  horse  coming  up  to  her  ear.  But 
the  German  heard  it  carelessly,  knowing  the 
friendly  call;  and  he  drew  a  step  nearer  the  ladies, 
as  he  said: 

"Oh — ho!  You  haf  bin  hiting  ein  vounded 
Shonny,  vos  et?  Haf  he  bin  parole?  Tam!  Ye 
veel  arresdt  heem  andt  take  heem  along." 

He  placed  his  hand  upon  his  sword  and  moved 
as  though  to  enter;  but,  with  swift  motion,  Yal 
Courtenay  stepped  before  her  aunt  and  grasped 
the  casing,  her  long,  slim  arm  barring  his  way. 

"You  shall  not  enter!"  she  said  in  low,  distinct 


120  CRAG-NEST. 

tone.  "If  you  do  not  respect  this  lady's  gray  hair, 
you  shall  respect  her  home.  Three  unarmed  wo- 
men are  here,  nursing  a  dying  soldier.  If  you  be 
a  man,  respect  our  sex  and  sorrow,  and  call  off 
your  men!" 

Abashed  for  the  moment,  the  man  drew  back 
before  the  fiery  tone  of  the  girl's  whisper;  but, 
even  as  he  did  so,  a  slight  creaking  noise,  and  a 
dull  click  caught  her  ear;  and  one  swift  glance 
showed  her  the  old  clock  door  slightly  ajar  and  the 
gleam  of  the  candle  caught  upon  the  leveled  barrel 
of  a  pistol,  in  the  darkness  behind  her.  But,  even 
at  that  supreme  moment,  she  lost  no  coolness;  mov- 
ing her  free  hand  before  the  candle  in  signal  to- 
ward the  clock.  For,  as  she  spoke,  the  bugle  on 
the  road  sounded  the  halt;  the  hoof  beats  were 
suddenly  still,  save  those  of  a  detached  squad  trot- 
ting rapidly  toward  the  house. 

"Tam!  Who  vos  doze?"  the  German  growled, 
turning  to  descend  the  step;  but  the  squad  was 
upon  them,  and  a  stern  voice  called  out  of  the 
darkness : 

"What  troop  is  this;  and  who  commands  it?" 

"Troop  K,  Second  Regiment  Buford's  brigade; 
Major  Einvasserschwein  in  command,"  the 
mounted  lieutenant  replied. 

"Yah!  Andt  who  ter  tefil  vos  you?  Some 
pummers  don'd  it?"  the  major  growled,  and  plac- 
ing his  foot  in  stirrup. 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  121 

"General  Buford  and  escort,"  was  the  curt  an- 
swer.    "Mount,  sir!  before  jow  report!" 

"I  vos  moundedt,  sheneral,"  the  other  an- 
swered meekly,  clambering  into  the  saddle  and 
waving  salute  in  the  darkness. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  sir;  off  the  line  of 
pursuit  and  without  orders?" 

"Shust  picking  up  some  Shonnies,  sheneral — " 

"And  needlessly  insulting  unprotected  ladies, 
General  Buford,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Courtenay,  with 
unusual  heat. 

"Why  were  we  not  halted  and  challenged,  sir?" 
the  general  asked  sternly.  "Are  these  the  precau- 
tions proper;  at  night — in  the  enemy's  country?" 

"Ve  haf  known  dot  bukle  vos  friendts,  shen- 
eral," the  other  replied,  in  different  tone  from  that 
he  had  used  to  the  ladies. 

"Your  ears  will  not  always  protect  you,  sir," 
the  brigade  commander  replied.  "Take  your  com- 
mand to  regimental  headquarters  at  once;  report 
yourself  to  your  colonel  under  arrest!" 

Promptly  the  German  gave  the  order — not  un- 
sheathing his  sword;  the  troop  lieutenant  order- 
ing: 

"Platoon!     By  the  left;  trot!     March!" 

The  squadron  moved  away  into  the  darkness, 
as  the  tall  cavalry  leader  threw  himself  from  sad- 
dle and  muttered  under  his  breath: 

"Curse   these    political    appointments!      That 


122  CRAG- NEST. 

fellow  may  be  a  first-class  ward-boss,  but  Sheridan 
himself  could  never  make  him  a  soldier." 

"He  was  keeping  a  beer-shop  in  my  town  when 
the  government  honored  me  by  making  him  my 
lieutenant,"  the  aid  replied,  as  they  turned  to- 
ward the  steps. 

"I  hope,  madam,"  the  general  said,  raising  his 
hat  courteously,  "that  you  have  suffered  no  discom- 
fort at  the  hands  of  my  men." 

"None  serious,  as  yet,  sir,"  the  old  lady  an- 
swered gravely,  "but  your  arrival  was  most — "  she 
hesitated  an  instant  with  the  word  "welcome" 
upon  her  lips;  changing  to— "opportune,  sir." 

"I  am  glad  for  other  reasons  than  duty  that  I 
fancied  some  irregularities  here,  when  I  heard 
horses  in  your  grounds.  You  have,  perhaps,  for- 
gotten my  former  visit,  when  I  was  Major  Bu- 
ford?" 

"I  have  not,  sir,"  she  answered  calmly.  "Cour- 
tesy like  yours  then  is  rare  enough  among  our 
Northern  visitors  to  be  remembered.  I  told  you 
truly  then,  that  my  kinsman  was  not  beneath  my 
roof.     lie  is  now  here!" 

The  Federal's  face,  now  in  the  full  light,  showed 
quick  change  from  grave  courtesy  to  surprised 
alertness.  Ere  her  v\'ords  were  finished,  his  hand 
had  gone  to  his  sword;  and  he  turned  as  if  to  give 
some  order.  But,  quick  as  himself,  she  inter- 
preted the  gesture  and  added : 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  12S 

"He  is  lying  very  near  death,  I  fear,  General 
Buford.     He  can  not  harm  you  now." 

"I  sincerely  regret  to  hear  it,  madam,"  the 
Northern  soldier  answered  promptly.  "When  we 
broke  Early's  right  this  morning,  Colonel  Calvert 
rallied  a  handful  of  fugitives  and  turned  on  my 
brigade  in  the  grandest  charge  of  the  day!  Can  I 
see  him,  madam?  You  ladies  are  alone  here;  and 
I  may  be  useful  to  a  gallant  enemy." 

As  Mrs.  Courtenay  hesitated,  Wythe  stepped 
softly  from  the  room  and  whispered: 

"Cousin  Wirt  is  awake.  Aunt  Virginia,  and 
insists  on  getting  up  to  see  who  these  men  are." 

"He  must  not  be  excited,"  the  old  ladj'  ox- 
claimed.  "You  had  best  enter,  sir.  I  am  assured 
that  you  will  be  gentle  with  a  helpless  foe." 

And  with  no  word  more,  she  stood  aside  and 
courteously  motioned  him  to  proceed. 

Colonel  Calvert  lay  pale,  unequal  to  the  effort 
he  had  made  to  rise  to  his  elbow.  But  his  eyes 
were  clear  and  bright  as  they  fell  upon  the  tall 
form  aj)proaching  his  bedside;  and  a  sad  smile 
moved  his  mustache  as  he  said  feebly: 

"You  have  got  me  at  last,  general,  where  I  can 
neither  fight  nor  run;  but  the  fault  is  your  fellows', 
not  my  owm." 

"I  am  truly  sorry,  Colonel  Calvert,"  the  younger 
soldier  said  in  low  voice.  "I  trust  it  is  nothing- 
serious,  sir." 


124  ■  CRAG-NEST. 

Again  the  sick  man  smiled  grimly  as  he  quoted: 

"  *No,  'tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide  as 
a  church  door;  but  'tis  enough!'  " 

A  spasm  of  pain  shot  across  his  face  and,  spite 
of  iron  will,  the  grim,  gray  mustache  quivered  as 
he  set  his  lips. 

"Has  he  had  surgical  aid?"  the  general  queried 
hastily. 

"Yes;  on  the  field,"  Yal  answered  impulsively; 
her  great,  dark  eyes  fixed  piteously  upon  the 
drawn  face.  "Without  it  he  would  have  died  upon 
the  field.  A  large  artery  was  severed,  the  major 
said." 

"The  major r^  the  Federal's  eyes  caught  the 
girl's  an  instant,  then  glanced  quickly  around  the 
room;  but  she  answered  calm  and  unhesitatingly: 

"Yes,  the  officer  who  brought  him  here,  and  es- 
caped your  German  compatriot." 

For  sole  reply.  General  Buford  turned  to  Mrs. 
Courtenay  and  said: 

"I  fear  Colonel  Calvert  lacks  for  skilled  treat- 
ment, madam.  My  headquarters  are  ordered  but 
three  miles  below.  I  will  send  my  staff  surgeon 
at  once."  A  grave  smile  lit  his  face  as  he  added: 
"We  did  the  damage,  perhaps;  so  it  is  our  place 
to  mend  it." 

The  colonel's  eyes  opened  calmly  and  turned 
upon  his  visitor,  as  he  said  faintly: 

"You  are  very  good,  general.     I  shall  be  better 


BEYOND    THE  LIJS'ES.  126 

soon,  but  I  thank  you  for  your  consideration  for 
my  kinswoman.'- 

"I  hope,  indeed  you  will,"  the  Federal  an- 
swered cheerily,  "and  you  will  find  Dr.  Patterson 
very  skillful."  He  slipped  off  his  gauntlet  and 
took  the  colonel's  right  hand  in  his,  letting  his 
fingers  rest  carefully  on  the  pulse  as  he  spoke. 
"We  are  on  the  move,  but  I  may  find  time  to  call 
again — with  your  permission  and  the  ladies'." 

"Thank  you,  general.  Come,  if  your  duty  per- 
mits," the  old  man  answered;  and  Mrs.  Courtenay 
added: 

"If  you  do,  General  Buford,  you  will  always 
be — "  again  she  hesitated  an  instant — "sure  of 
courteous  reception." 

With  a  bow  only  he  passed  to  the  door,  fol- 
lowed by  his  hostess,  who  asked  anxiously: 

"Is  he  desperately  hurt,  sir?" 

"I  can  not  tell,  madam,"  he  answered  gravely. 
"He  seems  seriously  hurt,  and  his  pulse  is  very 
weak.  I  should  advise  stimulants  and  absolute 
quiet.  Good-night,  madam."  Next  moment  he 
had  mounted  and  was  galloping  out  at  the  head  of 
his  escort. 

Then — listening  eagerly  to  the  departing  hoofs, 
Val  moved  quickly  to  the  clock,  crying: 

"They  are  gone! — all  of  them," 

Eavanel  struck  the  door  open,  rather  impa- 
tiently, uncocking  his  pistol  and  slipping  it  in  the 


126  CRAG-NE8T. 

holster  as  he  did  so.  Then  he  looked  full  into  the 
girl's  eyes  and  said: 

"It  is  scarcely  a  fine  part  I  have  played  in  to- 
night's scenes,  Miss  Courtenay;  but  you  have 
placed  me  under  deepest  oblif::ation." 

"There  can  be  none  possible,  sir,"  the  girl  an- 
swered quietly,  "when  a  Southern  woman  aids  a 
Southern  soldier.     I  had  done — " 

"As  much  for  any  other,  chancing  here;"  he 
broke  in  hotly;  and  the  girl,  raising  neither  eyes 
nor  voice,  replied  promptly: 

"Assuredly!  You  are  all  fighting  for  us;  we 
owe  you  all  equal  gratitude.  I  am  glad  you  obeyed 
my  warning.  Had  you  killed  that  brutal  German, 
a  hideous  scene  must  have  followed,  ending  surely 
in  your  death," 

"And  you  would  have  felt — "  he  began  quickly; 
but— her  face  still  downcast,  but  flushing  as  she 
spoke — the  girl  as  quickly  interrupted: 

"Deepest  sorrow,  sir.  At  this  moment  the 
death  of  every  soldier  is  a  loss  to  the  cause — a  grief 
to  every  Southern  woman!" 

For  a  single  instant  strong  feeling  glowed  upon 
the  man's  grave  face;  with  passionate  gesture  he 
advanced  one  step,  about  to  speak.  But  he  con- 
trolled the  sudden  gust  of  impulse,  and  the  voice 
was  quiet  and  cold  as  her  own,  that  said: 

"You  are  right,  and  your  words  remind  me 
how  I  neglect  my  duty.     I  must  find  the  remnants 


BEYOND   THE  LINES.  127 

of  our  brigade.  God  knows  who  are  left — and 
where  they  are;  and  I  must  search  for  them  on 
foot,  as  your  German  raider  carried  off  our 
horses." 

"You  can  wait  for  daylight?"  she  asked;  a  re- 
lenting in  the  tone. 

"Impossible,  Miss  Courtenay!"  He  was  en- 
tirely himself  again;  self-contained  and  speaking 
in  his  low  voice.  "In  a  tramp  after  the  rout — for 
now  it  seems  to  have  been  such — night  is  safer 
than  day,  even  were  time  not  precious.  I  kno.v 
every  foot  of  this  country." 

"Oh!  If  you  had  a  horse!"  The  girl  spoke  im- 
pulsively; but  he  answered  with  a  quiet  smile: 

"It  will  be  my  own  fault  if  I  do  not  by  daylight. 
So,  good-bye,  Miss  Courtenay;  and  believe  I  will 
not  forget  your  saving  me  from  capture  like  a 
straggler  or  desertc^r!" 

A  careful  footfall  sounded  across  the  field  and 
the  soldier's  hand  went  quickly  to  his  holster,  as 
a  familiar  voice  called  softly: 

"Ez  dey  all  gone,  missy?" 

"Yes,  Ziek;  all  are  gone.  Did  they  trouble 
you  at  the  barn?" 

"I  hasn't  been  at  th'  barn,"  the  black  answered, 
advancing  with  a  chuckle.  "Wen  I  yeered  da 
Yankee  gentlemuns  a-comin',  I  tuk  ter  da  woods." 

"It  was  just  as  well,"  Ravanel  answered.  "You 
could  not  have  saved  the  horses." 


128  CRAO-NE8T. 

"I  dunno,"  Ezekiel  answered  quietly.  "Bofe 
da  bosses  tuk  ter  da  woods  wid  me!" 

"You  brave,  smart  old  fellow!"  Ravanel  cried 
in  delight.  Then  he  turned  to  the  girl,  his  face 
glowing:  "What  do  I  not  owe  to  Crag-Nest? 
Certainty  of  escape,  added  to  safety  from  dis- 
honor!" 

But  Val  Courtenay — in  revulsion  from  anxiety 
— was  ice  again  once  more;  and  it  was  the  cold, 
reserved  voice  that  answered  slowly: 

"Safety  from  dishonor — should  be  paramount 
with  every  Southern  soldier!" 


HOME,  FAREWELL.  129 

CHAPTER  XI. 

HOME,  FAREWELL. 

Ten  days  succeeding  the  Opequon  disaster 
dragged  slowly  to  the  inmates  of  Crag-Nest.  Yet 
they  were  far  from  idle. 

True  to  his  promise,  General  Buford  had  sent 
his  brigade  surgeon  over  by  dawn;  and  Dr.  Pat- 
terson's careful  examination  of  the  colonel's 
wounded  thigh  gave  the  ladies  much  hope,  yet 
not  unmixed  with  serious  anxiety.  The  ball  had 
plowed  through,  tearing  the  artery;  and  the  doc- 
tor's verdict  was  that  the  hasty  ligation  might 
produce  inflammation,  and  possibly  sloughing. 

"He  has  reacted  wonderfully,  madam,"  he  said 
to  jMrs.  Courtenay,  after  the  diagnosis.  "His  i^ulse 
is  strong,  there  is  no  fever;  and,  better  still,  no 
sort  of  fear.  He  seems  to  have  great  constitution 
and  to  be  in  perfect  health;  but  the  greatest  pos- 
sible care  must  be  taken  to  keep  him  quiet.  All 
old  soldiers — especially  commanders — are  hard  to 
control ;  but  Colonel  Calvert  is  so  courtly  a  gentle- 
man that  I  expect  from  him  implicit  obedience  to 
you  and  his  gentle  young  nurses." 

"You  and  General  Buford,  sir,  have  put  our 
household  under  grave  compliment,"  the  old  lady 

9 


130  CRAG-NEST. 

said  with  stately  courtesy.  "Were  all  who  wear 
your  uniform  like  you,  this  terrible  war  might  be 
a  very  different  one." 

"I  am  more  than  glad  to  have  been  of  use,"  the 
surgeon  replied,  quietly  ignoring  her  comment.  "I 
hope  I  may  be  able  to  see  him  again  before  we 
move,  but  at  the  rate  the  enemy  is  retreating,  I 
may  be  far  out  of  reach  to-night." 

"Are  there  any  special  directions  to  leave,  doc- 
tor?" Val  inquired  in  her  thoughtful  way. 

"None,  miss.  Generous  nourishment,  necessary 
stimulant  when  the  pulse  goes  down,  and  the  band- 
age constantly  wet  with  tlie  lotion  I  left.  Only 
these,  and  above  them  all,  absolute  quiet  and  per- 
fect rest  for  the  limb.  And  now,  ladies,  I  must 
say  good-night,"  and  with  a  bow,  the  surgeon  sig- 
naled the  sergeant  and  his  escort  and  was  about 
to  mount  when  he  paused  and  turned  back.  "By 
the  way,  ]Mrs.  Courtenay,"  he  said,  "you  are  now 
behind  our  lines;  and,  I  hope,  likel}^  to  continue  so. 
In  this,  however,  you  are  not  likely  to  agree  with 
me;  and,  should  you  wish  to  move,  you  will  need 
permit."  He  took  out  his  note-book  and  wrote 
rapidly,  then  reading  aloud: 

"Mrs.  Courtenay,  of  Crag-Nest,  with  two  ladies 
and  a  wounded  officer.  Colonel  Wirt  Calvert,  have 
permission  to  pass  all  posts  and  pickets  of  the  U.  S. 
Army  between  their  home  and  the  Confederate 
line.     Paroled  this  20th  Sept.,  1863.      By  order 


HOME,   FAREWELL.  131 

Brig.-Gen'l    Buford,    Commanding    — th    Cavalry 
"Patterson,  Lt.-Col.  Brig.  Surgeon." 


Brigade 


As  he  finished,  he  tore  the  slip  from  his  book, 
tendering  it  to  Mrs.  Courtenay;  but  the  old  lad}' 
hesitated,  drawing  herself  up  to  full  height,  as  she 
replied : 

"But,  sir,  we  have  given  no  parole." 

"That  is  not  vital,"  he  replied  with  a  smile.  "I 
will  accept  it  as  constructive.  You  ladies  do  not 
form  a  very  dangerous  body;  and  the  general,  of 
course,  paroled  Colonel  Calvert." 

Never,  to  her  own  knowledge,  had  Mrs.  Courte- 
nay wavered  from  the  direct  path  of  strictest  ve- 
racity; and,  in  her  code  of  ethics,  the  suppression 
of  truth  was  the  meanest  suggestion  of  falsehood. 
But  the  freedom  of  her  kinsman — the  comfort,  if 
not  the  safety,  of  her  girls — were  too  great  prizes 
to  be  thrown  away;  so,  taking  the  paper  quietly, 
she  slipped  it  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  even  as 
she  replied: 

"M}^  cousin's  parole  will  have  to  be  'construc- 
tive' also.  General  Buford,  sir,  made  not  the  re- 
motest allusion  to  it." 

The  surgeon  smiled  quietly,  as  he  answered: 

"You  are  a  diplomatiste,  madam,  and  I  am  too 
old  a  soldier  to  attempt  correction  of  my  com- 
mander.    Keep  the  paper.     It  can  do  the  flag  no 


132  CRAG- NEST. 

harm,  and  may  be  useful  to  you.  And  now,  ladies, 
good-night." 

He  rode  away  too  rapidly  to  overhear  the  old 
lady's  comment: 

"That  Yankee  is  a  perfect  gentleman,  Val;  and 
I  really  believe  that  I  should  have  been  tempted 
to  offer  him  a  glass  of  wine  if — we  had  one  in  the 
house." 

From  that  night  the  colonel  was  a  model  pa- 
tient; obeying  implicitly  every  direction  of  his 
gentle  nurses,  and  gaining  strength,  and  his  old- 
time  cheerfulness,  under  their  tender  ministra- 
tions. Iron  constitution  and  great  will  power 
aided  these;  and  a  week's  time  found  the  veteran 
apparently  well  on  the  road  to  recovery.  But 
meantime  many  visitors  had  wandered  to  Crag- 
Nest;  some  mounted,  but  the  majority  on  foot;  a 
few  of  them  bearing  honorable  passport  of  recent 
wounds.  These  last  received  welcome  and  care 
from  the  lady  of  the  house.  But  the  majority  of 
visitors  were  stragglers  and  skulkers  from  either 
army — those  miserable  god-fathers  of  the  modern 
tramp.  And  these  received  small  consideration, 
but  always  a  strong  lecture  from  the  staunch  old 
matron,  though  none  of  them — if  really  foot-sore 
and  hungry — were  turned  away  without  a  crust 
from  the  fast  lessening  stores  at  Crag-Nest.  And 
the  latter  could  not  now  be  replenished,  with  com- 
munications wholly   cut   off,   and   nothing   with 


HOME,   FAREWELL.  133 

which  to  purchase  from  the  enemy  but  Confederate 
money.  So  Ezekiel  proved  himself — in  addition  to 
other  valuable  accomplishments— a  most  success- 
ful forager;  corn  and  fruit  from  the  ungathered 
crop  often  filling  his  sack,  and  occasional  honncs 
houches  of  bacon  and  canned  meats  from  some  dis- 
tant Yankee  camp.  These  last  the  girls  received 
and  served  without  question;  certain  that  the  head 
of  the  house  would  have  forbidden  further  foray 
had  she  suspected  their  source,  or  one  tithe  of  the 
romance  necessary  to  procure  them  for  the  suffer- 
ing but  eloquent  man  and  brother.  Meanwhile, 
only  "rumors  of  wars,"  vague  and  unreliable, 
floated  in  to  the  cut-off  household;  but  Federal 
bummer  and  Confederate  straggler  alike  agreed 
that  Early  had  reorganized  his  beaten  army,  and 
that  Sheridan  was  massing  for  a  still  heavier  and 
more  decisive  blow.  From  Crag-Nest,  the  only 
pickets,  patrols  and  massed  bodies  of  moving 
troops  now  seen  were  uniformed  in  blue;  and  its 
women  felt,  more  than  ever  before,  their  absolute 
isolation.  They  were,  indeed,  cut  off;  and  that  at 
a  time  when  supplies  and  minor  luxuries  Mere 
more  than  ever  missed,  and  when  medical  skill 
might  become  a  vital  need  at  any  moment.  And 
when  a  week  passed  by,  the  quiet  of  the  mending 
invalid  began  to  give  way  to  frequent,  and  some- 
times fretful,  queries  about  household  needs;  but 
more  especially  about  the  movement  of  the  armies. 


184  CRAO-NE8T. 

And  at  last,  the  iteration  of  the  formula,  "No  re- 
liable news,"  began  to  seem  to  his  impatience  only 
the  suppression  of  disastrous  tidings.  He  grew 
more  fretful  under  imposed  restraint;  insisted  that 
he  was  much  better,  and  taxed  equally  the  pa- 
tience and  the  resolution  of  his  faithful  nurses,  in 
carrying  out  the  surgeon's  strong  injunction  for 
his  absolute  quiet. 

Then,  suddenly  through  the  oppressive  but 
ominous  silence  in  the  Valley,  broke  the  dread 
echo  of  that  order  for  destruction,  which  sounded 
to  the  very  foundations  of  civilization;  hearing 
which,  the  Southern  Rachel  sat  by  her  desolated 
hearth,  groaning  in  her  soul :  '' Ye  have  made  it  a 
desert!"  even  while  she  might  not  add:  "And 
have  called  it  peace." 

Sheridan's  order — carrying  out  the  ideas  of 
Lieut.-General  Grant — had  gone  out  to  destroy  all 
subsistence  in  the  Valley;  wheat,  corn  and  stock. 
Its  carrying  out  had  been  entrusted  to  no  unwill- 
ing hands;  and  now  vast  tracts,  lately  teeming 
with  ungarnered  grain,  stretched  black  and  bare; 
while  smouldering  rafters  of  mill  and  barn  still 
sent  their  curling  protests  upward  against  "Man's 
inhumanity  to  man."  All  four-footed  things  were 
driven  from  already  depleted  farms;  and,  where 
not  fit  for  army  use,  were  slaughtered  to  prevent 
all  usufruct  to  the  stubborn  defenders  of  "Lee's 
granary."  For  the  fiat  had  gone  forth  inexorable 
— only  to  be  inexorably  observed : 


HOME,   FAREWELL.  135 

"Death  is  popularly  considered  the  maximum 
punishment  in  war,  but  it  is  not;  reduction  to  pov- 
erty brings  prayers  for  peace  more  surely  and  more 
quickly  than  does  the  destruction  of  human  life, 
as  the  selfishness  of  man  has  demonstrated  in  more 
than  one  great  conflict."* 

And  now  EzekiePs  foraging  was  light,  while 
his  budget  of  black  tidings  was  heavy  indeed;  and, 
like  the  ancient,  he  brought  in  the  latter  ever  be- 
fore him,  while  the  former's  depleted  weight  hung 
behind,  woefully  light.  And — emboldened  by  im- 
munity from  check,  from  Early's  still  disorganized 
command — the  black  riders  of  Destruction  waxed 
as  bold  as  fat;  and  day  or  night: 

"The  tramp — the  tramp  of  iron  hoofs, 

With  mutter  hoarse, 
Comes  on,  with  flames  of  burning  roofs 

To  marlc  its  course. 
Far  in  tlie  distance  seen  at  first. 

The  dwellings  light ; 
Bat,  one  by  one,  they  nearer  burst 

Upon  the  sight; 
And  all  along  that  valley  fair. 
The  homeless  shrieklngs  of  despair 
Come  throbbing  upward  thro'  the  air 

Of  pitying  night! 

"  And  riding,  trooping  rank  on  rank, 
With  jingling  spur  and  sabre  clank, 
The  men  who  bear  that  order  stern 
Have  come  to  desolate  and  burn. 
O  God  I     May  never  more  return 

A  lot  so  hard  to  bear!" 


■  General  Sheridan's  own  words. 


136  CRAG- NEST. 

And  now,  at  last,  the  resources  of  the  brave 
women  about  the  sick  man's  couch  had  come  to 
their  meagrest  point.  Stimulants  were  exhausted; 
nourishing  food  was  not  to  be  had,  and  the  daily 
needs  of  all  were  filled  by  green  corn  and  parched- 
potato  '^coffee";  the  fast  lessening  meal  and  flour 
being  kept  sacred  for  the  sick  man.  And,  only 
then,  the  council  of  three  decided  that  movement 
— or  its  alternative,  starvation — stared  at  them 
as  an  absolute  certainty. 

To  decide  was  to  act,  for  the  mistress  of  Crag- 
Nest.  Very  calmly  she  told  her  patient  of  so  much 
of  the  situation  as  was  necessary;  that  the  home 
resources  no  longer  availed  them  or  him;  and 
showed  him  General  Buford's  order  for  their 
safety.  This  had  stood  them  in  good  stead  on 
more  than  one  occasion  of  raid  or  other  visit;  and 
the  immediate  grounds  of  the  home  stood  almost 
solitary  in  immunity.  Even  Selim  had  been 
spared  the  usual  fate  of  worthless  mules;  and  Eze- 
kiel  had  carefully  cached  the  colonel's  tall  but 
now  lank  steed  deep  in  the  woods,  away  from  any 
path. 

Told  the  situation,  the  veteran  bit  his  mustache 
and  knotted  his  brows  awhile,  in  deep  thought. 
Then  his  face  cleared  up  and  he  said,  much  in  his 
old  manner: 

"The  order  is  a  hard  and  cruel  one.  Cousin  Vir- 
ginia; it  is  barbarity,  not  war.     That,  as  I  take  it, 


IIOMK,   FARKWEI.L.  137 

should  be  conducted  much  as  a  duel  between  gen- 
tlemen; and  this  is  the  shop-keeper's  notion  of  war. 
It  will  cripple  us  still  more,  but,  as  I  told  you  some- 
time ago,  thinkers  in  the  army — from  General  Lee 
down — have  begun  to  consider  the  war  a  question 
of  time,  not  one  of  result.  If  truly  there  can  be 
but  one  ending,  perhaps  the  sooner  we  reach  it  the 
better  for  humanity  and  the  future.  Zounds! 
Sheridan  is  helping  us  to  solve  the  problem.  But 
now  for  the  home  department,"  his  rare  smile  of 
other  days  lit  his  drawn  face.  "You  dear  ladies 
have  suffered  more  than  you  tell  me  for  my  sake. 
That  must  cease.  Why,  I  am  nearly  myself  again ; 
see!"  he  clinched  his  hand,  raising  his  arm  with 
some  vigor,  as  he  rose  to  the  other  elbow. 

"Cousin  Wirt,"  exclaimed  Yal,  "how  dare  you? 
And  what  sort  of  a  soldier  are  you,  to  disobey  or- 
ders like  that?" 

"But,  my  dear  child,  one  must  creep  before  he 
walks.  If  you  fair  tyrants  keep  me  on  my  back, 
how  will  I  get  strength  to  ride  as  your  escort  into 
our  lines?" 

The  girl  smiled  sadly  at  him,  as  she  strove  to 
answer  cheerily: 

"The  best  soldiers  obey,  without  question;  bul 
I  will  tell  you  that  everything  is  arranged.  To- 
morrow we  can  start." 

"Yes,  Cousin  Wirt,"  Wythe  cried,  overhearing 
as  she  entered  with  some  corn  bread  of  her  own 


138  CRAG-NEST. 

make.  "I  am  to  ride  your  horse  and  Val  will  drive 
you  and  Aunt  Virginia  in  the  phaeton,  until  we 
reach  our  lines  and  borrow  an  ambulance." 

Mrs.  Courtenay,  standing  with  imle,  sad  face, 
moved  her  lips  as  though  about  to  speak;  but  they 
only  moved  soundlessly  and  she  turned  quickly 
away,  passing  slowly  from  the  room.  Quietly,  but 
equally  quickly,  Val  followed,  slipping  her  arm 
within  her  aunt's  and  pressing  her  hand  in  silent 
token  of  sympathy. 

"Well,  my  fair  little  martinet,"  they  heard  the 
colonel  say,  "I  will  obey  unquestioning.  I  have 
given  you  my  parole.  But,  zounds!  That  paper," 
he  added  suddenly.  "I  can  not  use  it.  I  never 
gave  the  Yankee  my  parole." 

"Why,  no!  How  could  you?"  the  little  diplo- 
matiste  answered.  "He  never  asked  it.  You  can 
use  it,  as  he  said,  'constructively';  and  you  will  not 
refuse,  when  it  is  for  our  safety." 

For  sole  reply  the  veteran  tugged  slowly  at  his 
mustache.  Then  he  ate  his  simple  lunch  thought- 
fully, and  gallantly  kissed  the  white  little  hand 
that  reached  for  the  empty  plate. 

Next  noon  a  negro  parson  of  much  reputed 
sanctity,  and  more  than  suspected  of  being  em- 
ployed as  a  Federal  spy,  visited  Ezekiel  by  agree- 
ment. That  faithful  servitor  had  promised  to  use 
the  parson  in  a  lay  capacity;  and,  with  his  assist- 
ance, Colonel  Calvert — though  stoutly  protesting 


HOME,   FAREWELL.  ]39 

his  perfect  ability  to  walk — was  lifted  bodily  from 
his  couch  to  the  folded  comforter  laid  entirely 
across  the  left  side  of  the  old  phaeton.  Adieux 
were  spoken,  as  on  that  previous  preparation  for 
flight  from  the  Land  of  Bondage;  but  this  time  the 
mistress  broke  down  completely,  and  past  the 
power  of  speech,  when  the  old  negro  and  his  wife 
kissed  her  hands,  sobbing  like  little  children. 
Without  a  word — but  with  one,  long,  lingering, 
piteous  look  up  at  her  life-long  home,  she  took  her 
seat  beside  her  kinsman;  Val  taking  the  reins 
above  the  worn  old  mule.  Then  the  old  negro 
carefully  lifted  Wythe  to  Yal's  old  side-saddle; 
strange-seeming  to  the  fretful  war  horse. 

"Good-bye,  faithful  old  Ezekiel!"  the  colonel 
cried  suddenly.  "We  will  never  forget  your  care  of 
the  ladies.  Give  me  your  hand,  sir!  I  have  taken 
a  prince's  with  less  pleasure.  Zounds!  sir,  if  you 
are  black,  you  are  a  perfect  gentleman!" 

It  was  over.  The  home  tie  was  broken  at  last; 
and  driving  slowly  and  carefully,  Yal  passed  into 
the  road,  leaving  Crag-Nest  behind.  But  not  one 
word  was  spoken;  and  neither  head  was  turned 
for  a  last,  longed-for  look. 


140  CRAG-NEST. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

now    BLOOD    TOLD. . 

The  drive  was  necessarily  slow,  and  it  was  late 
afternoon  when  they  reached  the  first  Federal 
picket.  Its  officer  received  them  gruffly  enough 
at  first;  but  his  manner  changed  on  the  presenta- 
tion of  their  permit. 

"And  you  are  the  rebel  officer,  sir?"  he  asked 
the  colonel. 

"I  am  Colonel  Calvert,  of  the  Confederate  Army, 
sir,"  the  colonel  answered,  as  feebly  as  testily.  The 
strain  of  the  long  drive  had  told  upon  him;  and 
Val,  quietly  reaching  her  hand  to  his,  found  it  dry 
and  feverish. 

"Is  there  a  camp  beyond  on  this  road,  sir?"  she 
queried  quietly  of  the  Federal. 

"Yes,  miss;  ten  or  twelve  mile,  I  guess.  Two 
squadrons  of  Buford's  Brigade  camp  there  with 
his  hospital  train." 

"Do  you  know  the  surgeon  in  charge?"  the  girl 
again  asked  quickly. 

"Old  Patterson,  I  guess,"  the  man  answered 
carelessly,  "and  all  the  staff.  They  say  the  whole 
army  is  falling  back  on — "  he  checked  himself  sud- 
denly, adding:  "All  right,  colonel,  you  can  pro- 
ceed; your  parole  is  all  right." 


HOW  BLOOD  TOLD.  141 

The  old  gentleman's  face  flushed  and  he  seemed 
about  to  speak,  but  controlled  himself  until  they 
moved  forward.     Then  he  exclaimed  testily: 

"Confound  that  paper!  For  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  Cousin  Virginia,  I  seem  to  be  sailing  under 
false  colors.  I  gave  no  parole,  and  these  insolent 
rascals  insist  I  have." 

"But  Cousin  Wirt,  it  was  merely  written  con- 
structively." 

"Zounds!  Madam,"  he  answered,  half  rising 
to  his  elbow,  "a  parole  is  delicate  point  of  honor; 
and  in  such  all  must  be  direct  and  clear.  *  I  brought 
my  sword  from  the  field,  buckled  about  me.  Ever 
since  it  has  laid  under  my  coverlid.  It  is  wrapped 
in  these  comforters  now.  And,  zounds!  none  of 
these  hireling  gentlemen  ever  asked  me  for  it  when 
I  could  draw  it!  Why,  I  refused  to  surrender 
when  Ravanel  urged  necessity,  after  the  fellow 
leaped  from  his  horse  in  a  hail  of  fire  to  prevent  my 
falling  from  mine!  Zounds!  Madam,  would  I  let 
my  comrade  walk  through  shot  and  shell  to  carry 
me  out  of  their  reach  when  I  was  bleeding  to 
death,  only  to  surrender  now  that  I  am  well?" 

As  his  French  friends  would  have  said,  the  vet- 
eran was  a  cheval  now;  and  he  raised  to  his  elbow 
with  vigorous  gesture  of  his  free  hand.  Mrs. 
Courtenay  did  not  reply.  She  only  beat  up  his 
pillow  more  comfortably  as  —  the  unnatural 
strength  of  excitement  passing — he  fell  back  upon 


142  CRAG-NEST. 

it.  But  his  mind  still  ran  upon  the  subject,  and 
presently  he  said : 

"Cousin  Virginia,  I  have  determined  what  I 
will  do.  If  General  Buford,  or  any  officer  of  my 
own  rank,  is  at  this  camp  I  will  explain  this  busi- 
ness and  set  this  thing  straight." 

"As  you  please,  cousin,"  the  old  lady  answered 
quietly,  "but  I  see  no  necessity;  they  will  ask  no 
questions." 

"Zounds!  Madam,  I  care  nothing  for  their 
questions!  My  own  self-respect  as  an  officer  and 
a  gentleman  has  been  asking  questions  ever  since 
I  heard  of  this  farce!"  he  cried;  and  Yal,  turning 
at  his  unwarranted  vehemence,  noted  that  a  deep 
flush  was  on  his  forehead  and  cheeks  and  a  restless 
movement  in  his  eyes.  Plainly  the  fatigue  and 
heat  after  his  long  rest  had  fevered  the  wounded 
man;  and  the  quick  glance  the  women  exchanged 
showed  that  both  recognized  it.  But  he  was  silent 
now,  save  for  broken  exclamations,  as  he  dozed  fit- 
fully, but  woke  at  every  unusual  jolt  of  the  old 
vehicle.  Sunset  fell  when  the  picket  had  been  left 
only  about  six  miles,  and  its  afterglow  was  fading 
into  dull  gray  as  they  passed  the  next  rise. 

Colonel  Calvert  suddenly  uttered  a  sharp  ex- 
clamation of  pain,  followed  by  a  deep,  long  gasp; 
and  both  women,  turning  to  him,  saw  his  face 
deadly  pale,  but  drawn  with  suffering,  and  great 
beads  of  sweat  standing  upon  his  brow. 


HOW  BLOOD  TOLD.  143 

"Oh!  How  careless  I  am!"  Val  cried,  seizing 
the  bottle  of  lotion  and  throwing  back  the  light 
covering  from  the  leg  on  the  improvised  litter, 
stretching  beyond  the  front  seat  on  her  left.  "I 
have  neglected  to  moisten  his  bandage  and  its  pres- 
sure pains  him." 

But  her  own  face  grew  paler  than  his,  as  a 
glance  showed  her  the  tight  cloths,  not  dry,  but 
soaked  with  deep  red  blood,  already  beginning  to 
ooze  through  and  drip  slowly  upon  the  cushion. 
But  the  good  old  Virginian  blood  that  had  de- 
serted the  girl's  cheeks  had  not  fled  from  her  brave 
heart;  and,  crying  to  the  mule,  she  dropped  the 
reins  and  resolutely  grasped  the  bleeding  limb 
with  both  hands.  Passing  the  left  beneath  to  raise 
it  gently,  she  felt  along  above  the  bandage  with 
her  right  hand,  and  pressed  it  firm  and  strong  upon 
the  course  of  the  great  artery.  Then,  even  before 
Mrs.  Courtenay  could  si^eak,  she  cried  sharply: 

"Wythe!  Ride  for  your  life:  The  hospital 
camp  must  be  near — straight  ahead !  Bring  a  sur- 
geon!    Quick!" 

"What  is  it?"  Wythe  asked;  open-eyed  at  the 
tone,  as  she  urged  the  restive  war-horse  close  to 
the  mule. 

"The  artery!  Tell  him  to  bring  tourniquet  and 
silk!"  Val  w^hispered  rapidly,  but  never  turning 
her  head.     "Ride  fast!     'Tis  life  or  death." 

With  her  words,  the  younger  girl  struck  her 


144  CRAG-NEST. 

horse  sharply  with  the  SAvitch;  he  bounded  away 
at  full  gallop  and  passed  beyond  sight  in  the  fad- 
ing twilight,  his  rider's  light  form  swaying  to  his 
fierce  stride. 

"Don't  trouble — oh-h!  You  can  do — ^uoth- 
ing!"  the  sick  soldier  murmured  faintly,  as  another 
fluttering  spasm  passed  his  face.  But  he  bit  his 
mustache  grimly  and  took  a  deep  breath,  as  Mrs. 
Courtenay  bathed  his  forehead  and  said  gently: 

"Cheer  up.  Cousin  Wirt!  Your  horse  is  fresh 
and  she  will  be  back  soon.     It  is  only  a  trifle." 

What  might  have  been  a  smile  quivered  the 
gray  hairs,  as  his  teeth  released  them;  and  he  an- 
swered in  half  gasps: 

"Trifles  make  up — the  sum  of  life — or  death! 
Don't  trouble — Yal — brave — " 

Again  his  eyes  closed,  as  his  voice  died  away  in 
a  long  sigh;  and  the  matron  felt  his  brow  cold  and 
clammy. 

But  Yal  Courtenay  heard  the  lessening  thud  of 
rapid  hoofs  die  away,  with  a  feeling  of  despairing 
desolation  weighing  on  brain  and  heart.  How  far 
it  was  to  the  camp  she  could  only  guess;  some  miles 
at  least;  and  the  crimson  ooze  was  slowly  spread- 
ing over  her  upper  hand,  warm  and  sticky;  while 
it  sent  great,  thick  drops  trickling  upon  her  lower 
arm.  And  with  dull,  sickening  sense  she  felt  her 
left  hand  suddenly  cramp  and  the  muscles  of  both 
arms  quiver;  and  her  brain  reeled  with  rapid  con- 
jecture of  the  horse's  speed  and  the  lead-like  min- 


HOW  BLOOD  TOLD.  146 

utes  that  must  pass  before  succor  could  arrive. 
With  the  thought,  she  grew  dizzy  and  her  eyes 
closed  one  instant.  The  next,  she  braced  herself, 
body  and  mind;  and,  tightening  her  grasp  and 
pressure,  the  girl  gradually  turned  herself  around ; 
kneeling  on  the  footboard  to  face  her  patient  and 
giving  the  muscles  of  her  back  and  arms,  at  the 
same  time,  rest  and  fuller  strength. 

And  still  the  cruel,  red  stream  oozed  slowly 
through  the  bandage,  creeping  up  toward  her 
elbow  and  dropping  heavy  and  dull  upon  the  rug 
below;  and  she  felt  the  artery  jump  and  throb 
beueath  her  other  hand,  as  though  struggling  to  be 
free  and  jet  out,  at  one  gush,  the  dearly-prized 
life  for  which  she  fought.  Not  one  word  escaped 
her  tightly  pressed  lips  and  clinched  teeth.  Her 
quick  intuition  told  her  she  had  grappled  with  a 
force  beyond  her  strength;  that,  in  the  death  strug- 
gle with  it  she  must  husband  ever}-  jot  of  nerve  and 
muscle  and  will;  and — with  that  calmness  which 
comes  to  rare  natures  in  the  presence  of  deadly 
peril — she  closed  her  eyes  and  forced  back  calcula- 
tion of  distance  and  horse's  speed,  lest  thought 
even  might  drain  the  strength  so  sorely  needed. 

But  her  aunt,  pale  and  trembling,  softly  bathed 
the  now  cold  forehead — passing  an  old-time  vin- 
aigrette before  the  quivering  nostrils,  as  she 
whispered: 

"Are  you  easy,  my  cousin?" 

10 


146  CRAG-NEST. 

For  only  answer  came  a  long,  shuddering  sigh; 
but  the  veteran  lay  still  and  calm,  as  the  hand  the 
old  lady  had  taken  fell  limp  and  nerveless  beside 
him,  its  pulse  barely  a  thin,  flickering  thread.  But 
Val  felt  the  artery  beneath  her  hand  still  pumping 
piston-like  and  fierce  with  every  beat  of  the  true 
old  heart;  and  she  pressed  down  firmer  still  and 
braced  her  heels  against  the  dashboard,  as  racking 
pain  began  to  pass  up  both  arms  and  into  her 
shoulders. 

Suddenly  the  colonel  shivered;  then  drew  a 
deep,  quivering  breath,  holding  it  with  effort  as 
he  faltered  faintly: 

''Don't,  child — thanks — trouble — all  over  soon 
now — " 

Again  he  was  still,  as  the  fast  fading  dusk 
deepened  into  night;  and  Yal — opening  her  eyes 
an  instant — could  scarce  distinguish  the  dim  out- 
line of  her  aunt,  bending  above  the  sufferer  in  the 
phaeton's  shadow.  And  velvet-shod,  but  leaden- 
footed,  the  minutes  dragged  themselves  along;  the 
two  brave  women  holding  their  fearful  vigil  in 
that  thick  darkness,  unrelieved  by  even  one  ray  of 
hope.  For,  though  neither  spoke,  each  felt  the 
other  knew  how  slender  the  thread  on  which  that 
precious  life  was  hanging — the  pressure  of  one 
finger  of  a  weak  girl's  hand! 

Then  suddenly  the  matron  whispered,  calmly 
and  low  out  of  the  darkness: 


HOW  BLOOD  TOLD.  147 

"Val!  he  has  fainted!" 

Still  the  girl  did  not  speak.  Her  jaws  seemed 
locked,  her  lips  glued  together;  a  hideous,  racking 
flame  shooting  from  her  arms,  shrinking  her 
shoulders  and  searing  her  very  spine!  A  dull 
roaring  as  of  distant  surf  boomed  in  her  ears  and 
throbbed  upon  her  brain.  But  the  marvelous 
strength  of  will  beat  down  body  and  brain,  before 
the  inexorable  need  to  bend  all  power  of  both  to 
that  terrible  pressure  on  the  artery. 

More  minutes  passed.  At  length  the  cold, 
shivering  dread  crept  about  her  heart;  beating 
down  all  barriers  of  will  and  sense  and  duty  to  let 
in  the  hideous  fact.  She  could  not  hold  out  much 
longer.  Minutes  seemed  hours;  and  the  searing 
fire  in  her  arms  and  spine  scorched  with  agony 
not  long  to  be  endured.  Clammy  moisture 
thickened  on  her  brow,  trickling  over  her  cold  face 
and — as  she  knew,  shudderingly — sapping  her 
strength  still  more.  Louder  and  faster  boomed 
the  surf-sounds  on  her  brain;  her  throat  grew 
parched  and  seemed  to  close;  the  moisture  from 
her  wet  hair  dropping  as  from  storm-soaked  leaves. 
Thought,  quickened  by  dread,  shrieked  at  her  from 
within  that  she  was  hunmn — ^weak — must  fail! 
Keeping  time  with  the  now  lessening  throbs  of 
the  artery,  each  thump  of  her  laboring  heart 
seemed  to  jump  into  her  throat,  choking  and  sick- 
ening; and  she  grew  dizzy  as  she  saw — through 


148  CRAG-KEST. 

her  closed  lids — her  own  grip  relax  and  great 
dazzling  spurts  of  crimson  flash  by  her  eyes,  bear- 
ing in  them  the  remnants  of  life  still  left  to  him! 

But  the  grip  of  her  hands — spasmodic  and 
mechanical  now— closed  upon  the  bleeding  thigh 
until  they  buried  themselves  in  the  firm  muscles. 
But — through  it  all  the  pure  woman's  soul  never 
once  lifted  itself  to  the  Throne's  foot  in  supplica- 
tion. It  was  a  grim  death-grapple  of  nerve  and 
muscle  only  with  death.  She  dared  not  turn  one 
thought  away,  for  one  brief  second,  from  that 
fierce,  relentless  pressure. 

She  had  no  time  to  pray ! 

Ages — aeons  of  ages — bore  down  upon  her 
through  that  darkness;  numbing  brain  and  heart 
and  soul — 

"How  long,  O  Lord!     How  long?" 

Then,  through  the  black  silence  crashed  a 
sound.  Horses'  hoofs,  at  a  mad  gallop,  struck  the 
road  above.  Nearer  they  came,  clattering  along- 
side; lanterns  swinging  high  above  their  riders. 

"Here  we  are!  Quick,  Martin;  the  tourniquet!" 
Surgeon  Patterson  cried,  throwing  his  horse  upon 
his  haunches  and  swinging  from  saddle.  "That's 
right;  fill  that  hypodermic,  Johnson!  Here, 
Martin,  hold  my  case  and  get  a  suture!  Hold  the 
lantern,  madam!" 

As  he  spoke,  the  surgeon  had  thrown  back  the 


HO  \V  BLOOD  TOLD.  149 

phaeton's  folding  top,  swung  his  lantern  over  the 
colonel's  pallid  face  and  placed  firm  finger  on  his 
pulse.  Mrs.  Courtenay,  deadly  pale  and  breathing 
laboriously,  took  the  lamp  from  his  hand,  as  she 
gasped : 

"Is  he  dead?" 

"Bosh!  Good  as  two  dead  men!  Close  shave 
though.     Why,  miss — " 

He  never  finished  the  sentence.  Val  Courte- 
nay  opened  her  eyes  one  second.  The  next  she  had 
fallen  stark  and  cold  across  the  wheel;  only  the 
burly  surgeon's  quick  motion  saving  its  striking 
her  head. 

"Lay  her  on  the  grass,  Johnson!  Head  low. 
Quick  here!     No  time  to  lose.     This  is  a  flood!" 

He  had  turned  to  the  colonel  again;  passing  a 
keen  knife  under  the  bandage  as  he  spoke.  Its 
pressure  removed,  the  jetting  blood  spun  high 
above  his  head  in  ruby  spray.  Next  instant  the 
tourni(iuet  was  around  the  thigh;  the  knife  was 
through  the  lips  of  the  wound;  and  the  forceps  had 
gripped  the  ruptured  edges  of  the  artery. 

"Ah!  That's  it;  now  the  silk,  Martin.  Move, 
Johnson!  Yes,  the  hj^podermic;  in  his  left  side- 
quick!     There  we  are!  and  a  d — d  close  shave!" 

Ten  minutes  later  an  ambulance  clattered  up; 
strong  arms  lifted  the  wounded  man  and  laid  him 
gently  on  the  wide  mattress.  Then  the  surgeon 
turned  courteously  to  the  ladies — no  longer  the 


150  CBAG-NISST. 

field-surgeon;  the  mechanical  life-saving  automa- 
ton: 

"My  clear  Mrs.  Courtenay,  have  no  fear.  Bu- 
ford  prepared  this  trap  for  his  own  use;  so  you 
may  be  sure  it  is  comfortable.  He  will  be  as  safe 
and  easy  there  as  under  your  own  roof.  By  the 
way,  Martin,  is  there  anything  in  the  locker? 
These  ladies  probably  have  not  supped.  As  for 
you,  jNIiss  Courtenay" — he  turned  to  Yal,  gently 
taking  her  hand  and  pressing  the  pulse: — "Um! 
You  must  take  another  little  nip  of  that  toddy  I 
gave  you  just  now.  Don't  be  alarmed;  this  is  not 
army  brandy,  but  from  my  own  cellar." 

As  he  spoke  he  poured  a  portion  in  a  graduated 
glass,  dropping  some  aromatic  tincture  from  a 
phial:  "Take  that,  please!  Thank  you.  And  per- 
mit me  to  say,  miss,  that  I  am  pretty  well  accus- 
tomed to  bravery;  but  you  are  — a  hero!" 

The  girl's  pale  face  did  not  change  at  the  words; 
but  her  dark  eyes  gleamed  eagerly  in  the  lamp- 
light, as  she  asked: 

"Have  you  saved  him?" 

"No,  miss;  emphatically  /  have  not.  I  have 
eased  him  and  prevented  bad  results,  I  believe. 
But  I  am  sure — you  saved  him!" 

With  courteous  kindliness  he  assisted  the 
ladies  into  the  ambulance,  passing  in  a  lantern,  as 
he  said: 

"No,  madam;  do  not  fan  him.     For  a  man  with 


now  BLOOD  TOLD.  151 

that  little  blood,  the  night  air  is  cool  enough.  Miss 
Courtenay,  wet  his  lips  with  this  frequently;  if  he 
swallows  some   it  will  not  kill  him,  eh?" 

''Oh!  sir,"  Yal  suddenly  cried,  ''where  is  my 
little  cousin?" 

"Where  you  will  be  presently,  I  hope,"  he  an- 
swered smiling.  "In  bed  in  my  tent,  in  charge 
of  a  Red  Cross  nurse.  The  brave  little  lady  in- 
sisted on  piloting  me;  but  I  knew^  speed  was  es- 
sential, and  she  has  had  ride  enough  for  one  night 
on  that  mastodon  of  the  colonel's.  Now,  ladies, 
we  must  move.  He  is  all  right,  for  the  present; 
and  I  will  ride  by  your  side.  Make  yourselves  at 
home.  This  ambulance  is  yours,  until  you  reach 
Reb — Confederate  lines;  and — if  Gordon  will 
countersign  that  pass  I  gave — until  you  reach  the 
Richmond  railroad!" 


162  CRAO-NEST. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  morning's  misadventures. 

Once  more  the  war-dogs  are  in  leash  across 
the  devoted  Valley;  tugging  fiercely  at  restraint 
and  equally  eager  for  the  death-grapple. 

Time,  that  stays  for  no  man,  has  swept  warm 
September  aside,  and  the  mellow  days  of  mid-Oc- 
tober are  basking  down  upon  old  Three  Top  Moun- 
tain, where  Early  has  his  signal  station.  That 
grim  old  Confederate  has  massed  his  troops  below 
and  northward ;  stretching  away  his  advanced  line 
almost  to  Cedar  Creek,  where  General  Wright 
holds  the  further  bank  with  Sheridan's  advance. 
For,  after  his  victory  on  the  Opequon,  the  Federal 
general  had  struck  but  once  in  force — at  Fisher's 
Hill;  and  Eosser's  disaster  at  Tom's  Kun — deris- 
ively dubbed  the  "Woodstock  Races"  by  the  vic- 
tors— was  merely  an  exaggerated  skirmish  be- 
tween the  now  admirable  cavalry  of  the  enemy 
and  the  demoralized  and  half-dismounted  squad- 
rons of  the  South. 

Why  his  victory-flushed  army — reinforced  and 
splendidly  equipped — had  not  been  pushed  for- 
ward before  his  own  shattered  columns  could  be 
reorganized   and   strengthened,   the   Confederate 


A   3fORyiXGS  MISADYEXTURES.  153 

could  only  wonder.  He  did  not  comprehend  the 
vast  power  of  the  political  upon  the  military  situ- 
ation, beyond  the  Potomac;  or  that  popular  clamor 
was  loud,  at  the  North,  against  Lee's  long  resist- 
ance to  Grant's  sledge-hammer  blows  against  the 
very  back  door  to  Richmond.  And  that  fighter — 
as  well  as  Mr.  Lincoln  and  Secretary  Stanton — 
persistently  warned  "Little  Phil"  that  his  next 
blow"  must  not  be  to  maim,  but  to  destroy. 

The  southern  situation,  still  niore  grave,  held 
the  protection^  of  the  Valley — equally  the  granary 
and  transportation  line,  as  the  bulwark  against 
that  advance  on  Lee — to  mean  the  salvation  of 
the  Confederate  capital. 

Early — reinforced  by  fresh  troops,  and  given 
full  time  to  reorganize  his  beaten  veterans — was 
now  in  better  condition  for  defense,  or  aggression, 
than  at  any  moment  since  his  Opequon  defeat. 
The  spirit  of  his  tattered  and  half-starved  men 
was  better  also;  new  levies,  equally  with  old  sol- 
diers of  Jackson's  Valley  wars — being  eager  to  be 
loosed  upon  their  successful  and  arrogant  enemy. 

During  the  lull,  however,  frequent  heavy  skir^ 
mishes  had  taken  place  between  the  cavalry,  feel- 
ing each  other's  lines;  some  of  them  obstinate  and 
bloody,  but  all  resultless  upon  the  suspenseful  sit- 
uation, until  the  13tli  of  October.  That  day,  Ker- 
shaw's tough  old  division  struck  Torbert's  at 
Hupp's  Hill,  driving  it  in  demoralized  retreat,  and 


154  CJiAG-NEST. 

leaving  General  Wright  in  anxious  seat  at  Cedar 
Creek. 

The  opportunity  had  come  at  last;  and,  only  the 
third  dawn,  Confederate  signal  flags  on  Three  Top 
flai)ped  out  that  historic  dispatch  to  Early: 

"Be  ready  to  move  as  soon  as  I  join  you,  and  we 
will  crush  Sheridan.  Longstreet,  Lieutenant- 
General." 

But  other  e^^es  than  those  meant  saw  the  flags; 
tlie  spy-stolen  code  gave  its  purport  to  Wright, 
and  the  best  mounted  courier  was  soon  bearing  it 
to  Sheridan,  at  Front  Royal.  But  Earl}^  was  igno- 
rant of  this;  and  equally  of  the  fact  that  Sheridan 
— sending  all  cavalry  but  his  escort  to  Wright,  and 
confident  that  Longstreet  could  not  make  his  com- 
bination before  his  return — was  speeding  away  to 
Washington  for  a  conference  with  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
the  war  secretary. 

In  war,  as  in  love,  "trifles  light  as  air,  are  con- 
firmation strong";  and  the  Federal  general  rode 
away,  while  his  grim  opponent  pushed  forward. 

So  it  fell  out  that,  at  dawn  two  days  later,  a 
scouting  column  trotted  briskly  out  of  a  by-road, 
on  to  the  Yalley  pike.  At  its  head  rode  Fraser 
Ravanel;  three  stars  upon  his  collar  now.  For  his 
delay  at  Crag-Nest,  when  Ziek  saved  his  horse, 
had  proved  a  blessing  in  disguise,  and  he  had  been 
just  in  time  to  cut  off  the  fugitives  of  his  own  brig- 
ade that  night.     Massing  them  with  some  of  Cal- 


A   MORNING'S  MISADVENTURES.  165 

vert's  cooler  veterans,  and  ably  aided  by  Rob 
Maury,  he  had  turned  them  upon  the  over-confi- 
dent pursuit;  first  checking,  then  driving  it  back 
down  the  same  road,  broken  and  demoralized. 
This  service  had  won  his  transfer  and  promotion 
to  lieutenant-(^olonel  of  Calvert's  old  corps,  and  his 
signal  gallantry  at  Fisher's  Hill — when  his  colonel 
fell  and  he  held  Merritt  off  Early's  rear  for  hours — 
added  the  third  star. 

By  Colonel  Eavanel's  side  rode  Rob  Maury;  his 
collar,  too,  decorated  with'  an  extra  bar,  for  the 
youth's  good  service  had  gained  his  step,  and  he 
was  now  captain  and  adjutant  of  his  brigade. 

"I  am  glad  we  heard  from  the  old  colonel,  yes- 
terday," he  was  saying,  as  they  trotted  on.  "By 
George!  What  a  constitution  he  has,  to  rally  so, 
after  such  a  bleeding!  They  were  lucky  to  get 
through  the  very  night  before  Fisher's  Hill.  And 
isn't  Yal  a  real  heroine,  colonel,  to  act  as  she  did?" 

"Your  cousin  is  a  brave  woman,"  the  senior 
answered  gravely. 

"She's  one  woman  in  a  thousand,"  the  other 
stated  warmly.  "If  the  Confederacy  holds  an- 
other like  her,  and  she's  young  enough,  I'll  lay  my 
captaincy  at  her  feet,  for  better  or  worse.  By  the 
way,  colonel,  didn't  I  understand  her  to  say  that 
you  two  had  met  in  Richmond?" 

"Yes,  three  years  ago,  at  Judge  Brooke's,"  was 
the  quiet  answer.     "But  we  are  nearing  the  enemy. 


156  CRAG-NEST. 

sir;  and  they  must  be  close  enough  to  keep  our 
eyes  open.     Close  up  the  squad  and  warn  the  offi- 


cers 


!" 


liob  rode  rearward  on  that  duty;  soon  return- 
ing and  riding  again  beside  his  commander,  as 
they  turned  a  curve  of  the  mountain  road;  descend- 
ing to  more  level  country — black  and  burned,  with 
no  obstruction  to  the  view,  but  muddy  and  heavy 
from  recent  rain. 

"Look!"  he  cried  suddenly-,  pointing  to  a  dis- 
tant cabin  across  fields- and  far  beyond  clear  view. 

"A  Yankee  trooper's  horse,  I  judge,  from  the 
covered  saddle,"  Colonel  Kavanel  answered,  low- 
ering his  field  glass.  "I  can  not  make  him  out 
plainly,  but — his  rider  would  not  be  alone." 

''Unless  a  scout,  sir!"  l\ob  exclaimed  eagerly. 
"He's  a  find,  anyway.     Let  me  cut  him  out!" 

A  nod  was  the  reph^,  and  the  adjutant — quickly 
choosing  four  men  of  the  best  mounted — ^spurred 
at  the  fragment  of  fence,  the  five  taking  it  almost 
together,  but  a  tall  gray  landing  just  ahead  of 
Val's  pet  sorrel. 

Next  instant  Captain  Robert  Maury  was  stone- 
blind,  the  morning  breeze  whistling  by  his  ears, 
but  sound  his  only  guide,  as  heavy  hoofs  slumped 
on  before  and  behind  him.  The  field  was  of  rough 
furrows,  changed  to  mud  by  the  late  rain;  and  the 
gray's  heels  had  hurled  two  goodly  portions  of  it 
full  into  the  open  eyes  of  the  squad  commander. 


A  MORNING'8  MISADVENTURES.  157 

Blinded  completely — but  feeling  increased  stride 
of  his  own  ambitious  horse,  on  seeing  the  gray  pass 
— Rob  clung  with  knee  and  only  steadied  his  sor- 
rel, soothing  him  by  voice  and  hand.  On  they 
rushed,  splashing  and  floundering  here;  increas- 
ing speed  again,  as  sounder  footing  offered.  And 
Rob  —  fuming  inwardly,  but  too  proud  to  order 
slackened  speed — heard  another  horse  close  be- 
hind. Then  his  own  took  a  ditch  in  his  stride, 
speeding  away  again;  and,  suddenly  he  seemed  to 
mount  into  the  air  to  tremendous  height — to  skim 
across  space  for  many  seconds;  then  to  light  again 
and  rush  onward  with  a  cheery  snort.  In  inky 
darkness,  the  rider  clung  with  knee  and  thigh;  but 
— not  knowing  what  might  be  before  him — he 
dared  not  loose  the  rein;  and  his  wrinkled  old 
gauntlet  only  smeared  the  clay  more  closely  over 
his  smarting  optics,  as  his  right  hand  essayed  to 
clear  them. 

Then — after  what  seemed  to  him  many  miles  of 
furious  rush,  broken  ever  and  anon  by  sudden 
leaps — a  voice  ahead  cried: 

"Ware  fence!     She's  stiff!" 

Rob's  right  gauntlet  was  between  his  teeth, 
and  he  quickly  drew  away  his  free  hand,  at  the 
same  moment  loosing  the  rein  and  throwing  the 
mud  from  his  eyes  with  a  snap  of  both  hands. 
Dimly,  he  saw  the  rail  fence — uninjured  there — 
rise  stiff  and  high,  ten  yards  away,  barely  in  time 


158  CRAG-NEST. 

to  grasp  the  rein  and  lift  the  panting  horse  to  the 
leap. 

And  on  the  other  side  stood  the  negro  cabin, 
the  coveted  j^rize  hitched  before  it,  still  and  quiet. 
Already  the  graj^'s  rider  had  reined  up  and  slung 
himself  from  saddle;  and  Rob's  weeping  eyes 
showed  him  a  sorry,  low-headed  black,  covered 
with  an  old  India-rubber.  Saddle  and  accoutre- 
ments, there  were  none;  and  the  eager  hands  that 
tore  away  the  rubber  disclosed  the  hideous  sore 
back  of  an  abandoned  cavalry  steed. 

^'Take  the  rubber,  sergeant,"  he  ordered 
quickly.  "He's  your  prize;  and  a  pretty  goose 
chase  we've  had!"  He  turned  in  saddle,  try- 
ing to  make  out  his  column;  but  the  curving  road 
hid  them,  and  he  added: 

''We  can  cut  them  off  by  that  path  ahead.  It 
joins  the  main  pike  near  Crag-Nest.  Mount,  men 
— Forward !" 

"That  path  will  bring  us  in  the  road  a  mile 
ahead  of  'em,  sir!"  the  sergeant  answered,  re- 
mounting. "I  know  the  way;  escaped  a  Yankee 
scout  there  in  August." 

It  proved  he  was  right,  for  the  squad  emerged 
into  the  empty  pike;  no  sign  of  friend  or  foe  visible, 
though  the  dull  tramp  of  moving  horses  came  float- 
ing over  the  ravines  from  up  the  road.  But 
Maury's  quick  ear  caught  another  sound,  coming 
from  below ;  and  he  bent  low  over  his  pommel,  list- 
ening intently. 


A   MORNING'S  MISADVENTURES.  169 

"Horses;  a  good  party!"  he  said  briefly. 
"Steady!  men — they  must  be  Yanks.  None  of  ours 
so  far  down." 

Carbines  were  unslung  and  ready,  and  the  cap- 
tain— revolver  in  hand  and  sitting  lilvo  a  statue, 
as  the  sounds  of  hoofs  each  way  grew  nearer  and 
more  clear — saw  a  Federal  scouting  squadron  ap- 
proach at  rapid  trot,  the  early  sun  glinting  on  car- 
bine and  vizor. 

"Steady,  men!"  he  cried.  "Hold  your  fire! 
They  &.re  far  out  of  range — and  too  many  for  us; 
but  we'll  give  them  one  volley  before  we  break 
for  our — " 

As  he  spoke,  a  single  red  flash  shone  out  from 
the  front  of  the  rapid-moving  line  of  blue;  the 
words  stilled  abruptly  on  Maury's  lips  and  he  fell 
back  upon  his  horse's  croup,  as  the  bay  reared 
nearly  upright,  with  the  sudden  tug  upon  his  bit. 
As  he  came  down,  the  rider's  hand  relaxed;  and, 
throwing  out  his  freed  head,  the  horse  wheeled 
round,  flying  up  the  pike  in  mad  run. 

On  sped  the  line  of  blue,  their  fresh  horses  gain- 
ing on  the  flying  squad;  their  cracking  carbines 
sending  bullets  whizzing  by  the  fugitives.  Closer, 
clearer  beat  the  hoofs  behind;  swifter  and  more 
near  whizzed  the  bullets,  two  of  them  striking  with 
that  dull,  woody  thud  that  tells  of  torn  flesh. 

Rob  Maury's  spasmodic  knee-grip,  and  his 
heavy  boots,  held  him  in  the  deep  saddle;  but — 


160  CRAG-NEST. 

the  chase  close  upon  them — a  ball  grazed  the  bay's 
flank.  Swerving  at  the  smart,  he  slung  his  inert 
rider  from  him,  stiff  and  stark,  and  falling  prone 
at  the  roadside. 

Ravanel — a  mile  away  around  the  curve — 
heard  the  firing;  closing  up  his  ranks,  trotting 
briskly  but  carefully  toward  it,  his  squadrons 
drawn  across  the  road,  carbines  at  a  ready.  A 
brief  space,  and  rounding  the  curve  sped  on  the 
wild-flying  squad;  some  wounded,  but  all  panic 
struck.  Next  instant  the  bleeding  hSij  dashed  up, 
nickering  piteously;  and  the  soldier's  quick  glance 
showed  him  his  prostrate  comrade,  two  hundred 
yards  away,  the  blue  line  spurring  down,  close 
upon  him. 

With  that  glance  the  Carolinian  rose  in  his  stir- 
rups, swinging  his  sabre  high,  as  he  roared: 

"Squadron!     Aim,  fire!" 

A  quick  volley  rang  out  from  the  front  line; 
the  troops  nearing  rapidly,  as  the  Federals  re- 
turned it.  And  again  the  colonel's  voice — no 
longer  soft  and  low,  but  with  the  bugle  ring  in  it — 
gave  the  quick  commands: 

"Cease  firing!  Draw  sabres!  Gallop:    Charge!" 

Spurring  ahead,  he  waved  his  sabre;  and,  as 
a  hundred  blades  flashed  out  and  up,  men  let  out 
their  eagerness  in  a  wild  yell,  that  sent  a  thousand 
echoes  flying  through  the  hills. 

"We'll  give  them  the  steel,  sir!"  Ravanel  mut- 


A   MORNING'S  MISADVENTURt:S.  161 

tered  to  the  troop  captain  near  him;  then,  turning 
in  saddle,  again  he  swung  his  sword,  his  voice 
ringing  above  clank  and  hoof: 

^^At  'em,  boys!  Remember  Opequon!  Save 
Maury's  body!" 

On  rushed  the  opposing  horsemen,  lessening  the 
gap  with  every  bound;  continuous  flash  of  carbine 
sheering  the  blue  line;  the  gray  firing  no  shot,  as 
here  and  there  men  dropped  from  saddle. 

And  now  the  blue  had  swung  by  Rob  Maury's 
prostrate  body,  shutting  it  from  sight;  the  lines 
scarce  fifty  yards  apart,  when  the  Federals  swing 
out,  and  Ravanel's  face — already-  flushed  with  ugly 
fire  of  the  gladiator — suddenly  grows  pale.  Over 
it  sweeps  something  more  fierce  and  fell  than  bat- 
tle j)assion.  The  long  jaws  set  hard,  as  the  white 
teeth  close  upon  the  black  mustache;  the  right 
hand  closer  grips  the  long,  keen  sabre,  and  the 
spurs  dig  fiercer  in  the  black's  panting  sides,  as 
the  eyes,  blazing  with  evil  light,  fall  upon  the 
Federal  leader. 

Splendidly  mounted,  sturdy  and  compact — 
with  heavy  brow  and  dissipated  look — the  blue- 
coat  rides  well  and  recklessly  to  the  coming  fray. 
But  suddenly,  his  eye,  too,  takes  in  the  opposing 
commander,  and  a  deep  flush  stains  his  ruddy  face 
an  instant,  leaving  it  deadly  pale,  as  his  hand  me- 
chanically checks  his  horse.  It  is  but  one  in- 
stant. The  next,  a  black  scowl  knits  his  brow, 
11 


162  CRAG-NEST. 

the  dogged  brutality  of  the  prize  ring  settling  on 
his  face. 

And  then — the  lines  almost  in  contact — Rava- 
nel  rises  in  stirrups  and  drives  full  at  him. 

There  is  a  hideous  shock  as  of  two  angry  waves 
striking  their  crests.  Huge  dust-clouds  rise  and 
hang  above  the  rushing  squadrons — crash  of  steel 
and  crunch  of  hoof;  groan  of  man  and  scream  of 
wounded  beast  rising  through — as  the  columns 
strike  each  other.  Fierce  is  the  melee,  as  steel 
hews  flesh,  and  blow  and  parry  and  oath  make  Pan- 
demonium for  a  while!  Then  the  gray  line  is 
forced  slowly  back,  fighting  each  foot  of  way. 

But  in  the  press  and  rush,  Ravanel  is  borne  past 
the  opponent  at  whom  he  aimed;  their  sabres 
clashing  once  as  they  sweep  by.  But  the  Caroli- 
nian's is  already  red,  and  again  a  burly  trooper 
tumbles  from  his  steed  before  it,  as  spurring  from 
right  to  left,  he  nerves  his  wavering  men  by  voice 
and  mien.  They  press  back  the  foe  steadily  and 
slow;  and  then — by  accident  of  battle — the  leaders 
meet  again. 

"Cur!  I  have  found  you!"  Ravanel  mutters 
through  set  teeth,  as  swift  turn  of  his  wrist  and 
touch  of  the  opposite  spur  swing  the  black  half 
round  and  the  heavy  Federal  sabre  shears  down 
past  his  shoulder  with  an  ugly  "whoo!"  But  ere 
it  is  raised,  his  own  keen  point  has  struck  the 
other's  breast,  passing  clean  through  until  the  hilt 


A   MORNING'S  MTSADVENTURES.  163 

grates  on  his  aguilette,  and  the  heavy  form,  lurch- 
ing from  saddle,  almost  unseats  him,  as  the  blade 
snaps  close  to  hilt. 

Quickly  Eavanel  drew  his  pistol,  as  the  blue- 
coats  doggedly  bore  back;  the  black,  bridleless, 
bounding  for\Yard  to  the  spur.  Suddenly  a  sheet 
of  flame  shot  close  before  his  eyes;  a  deafening 
roar,  as  of  a  shell  exploding  in  his  very  face;  and 
he  knew  no  more! 

It  was  midnight  when  the  Carolinian  feebly 
opened  his  eyes,  dull  and  heavy  from  combined 
effect  of  opiates  and  a  long  gashed  wound  across 
his  skull.  For  a  moment  he  was  dazed,  gazing 
dully  at  familiar  faces  of  his  own  camp.  Then 
slowly  reaction  came,  and  he  made  a  feeble  effort 
to  rise,  as  he  muttered: 

"Did  we  beat  them?" 

"Not  much,"  the  old  surgeon  by  his  side 
growled  grimly.  "We  were  driving  them  when 
you  were  hit;  and  then  our  boys  broke  like  turkeys. 
It  was  a  miracle  that  Caskie  Cullen  ever  got  you 
from  under  their  feet  and  brought  you  out  on 
his  pommel!  But  you  must  be  quiet;  here,  take 
this!" 

The  wounded  man  lay  apathetic,  till  the  sur- 
geon ceased.  Then  there  was  a  red  gleam  in  the 
eyes  he  opened  slowl}^,  as  he  asked  low: 

"And  their  commander?" 

"Oh!  he's  all  right,"  the  surgeon  answered 


164  CRA(jI^-NE8T. 

grimly..  "If  your  thrust  had  not  killed  him,  he 
must  have  been  trampled  to  death." 

And  the  sick  man,  closing  his  eyes  once  more, 
turned  his  back  to  the  speaker,  muttering  as 
though  to  himself: 

"I  hicic  I  would  find  him — at  last!" 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  ]  65 

CHAPTER  XIA^. 

THE    RIDE    WITH    SHERIDAN. 

The  surgeon's  account  of  the  skirmish  was  ac- 
curate, as  far  as  it  went,  but  the  cause  of  the  Con- 
federate break  was  not  only  the  fall  of  their  leader, 
for  their  front  line  saw  a  heavj^  mass  of  infantry — 
warned  by  the  firing — advancing  up  the  road  at 
double  quick.  This  was  a  full  brigade,  forced- 
marching  toward  Cedar  Creek;  and  with  one  vol- 
ley after  the  flying  gray  jackets,  it  reformed, 
marching  straight  south.  By  the  time  its  ambu- 
lance corps  reached  the  field,  the  cavalry  bugle 
had  sounded  the  recall,  and  the  troopers  were  car- 
ing for  their  wounded.  The  Southron's  sabre  was 
drawn  from  the  body  of  their  dead  leader,  and  it 
was  carefully  laid  in  an  ambulance,  covered  with 
an  overcoat  from  his  saddle.  And  just  then  a 
trooper  further  off  found  Rob  Maury's  body,  lying 
close  beneath  a  boulder  by  the  roadside,  wholly 
untouched  by  passing  hoofs. 

"Gosh!  The  Johnny  wore  good  boots,"  he 
cried.     "Guess  I'll  borrow  'um." 

He  stooped  as  he  spoke,  raising  the  right  leg 
roughly  and  tugging  fiercely  at  the  high,  damp 
boot,  when  suddenly,  to  his  great  surprise,  the  left 
leg  drew  up  bending  at  the  knee. 


166  CRA(jt-NEIST. 

"Darned  ef  I  ever  seed  a  corpse  kick  before," 
he  cried,  starting  back:  "Fli!  doctor!"  he  called  to 
a  surgeon  passing,  "look  at  this  Johnny,  dead  as 
a  mackerel  and  kickin'  like  a  steer." 

The  man  of  science  approached,  leaned  over  the 
prostrate  Confederate  and  raised  his  hand.  On 
release,  it  fell  back  like  lead,  and  he  answered: 

"That  bine  spot  in  his  forehead  means  instant 
death;  ball  must  have  penetrated  his  brain.  It 
must  be  the  contents  of  your  canteen  that  kicked, 
Chalmers." 

"Wish  'twas,"  the  trooper  answered  ruefully. 
"Hain't  had  no  grog  to-day.  But,  doctor,  darned 
ef  he  didn't  kick  when  I  nabbed  his  boot!" 

"Death  rigor  supervening,"  the  doctor  an- 
swered with  a  wise  look,  as  he  stooped  again, 
thrusting  a  rough  finger  into  the  small  blue  hole 
on  his  subject's  forehead ;  but  the  knowing  expres- 
sion changed  to  a  puzzled  one,  as  he  muttered: 

"Hard  substance;  ball  must  have  lodged  in  the 
bone.  He  is  warm,  too;  strange  case.  Here  men! 
Tumble  this  Rebel  into  that  ambulance;  there  is 
plenty  of  room." 

He  was  promptly  obeyed;  and  the  hospital 
corps  turned  back,  moving  slowly  north. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Kob  Maury  opened 
his  eyes  feebly.  With  great  effort  he  raised  to  his 
elbow  on  the  rough  army  cot,  staring  around  him 
and  trying  to  remember.    That  he  had  a  splitting 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  167 

headache  and  horrible  nausea,  he  knew ;  but  where 
was  he?  The  place  seemed  familiar;  the  shape 
of  the  long,  narrow  ward  and  the  high,  sashed 
sides — spite  of  the  shattered  i)anes — reminded 
him — .  Yes,  it  was  the  conservatory  at  Crag-Nest. 
But  how  did  he  get  there?  Was  Wythe  Dandridge 
near  by  to — .  Eesistless  nausea  and  dizziness 
overcame  him  and  he  fell  back  upon  the  straw 
pillow. 

Shortly  after,  the  surgeon  who  had  first  found 
him  passed  down  the  ward,  making  his  report  to 
the  chief  surgeon: 

"Yes,  sir.  Colonel  Clayton's  body  lies  in  the  par- 
lor there;  the  two  officers  are  laid  out  in  the  hall; 
the  wounded  men  are  in  this  ward,  all  except  these 
two."  He  paused  at  the  very  last  cot,  next  to 
which  lay  the  now  insensible  Confederate.  "This 
is  a  bad  case;  a  courier  from  the  rear  who  rode  in 
here  speechless.  That  gash  in  his  forehead  is 
enough  to  finish  him — singular,  doctor,  how  many 
head  wounds  there  are  in  our  arm  of  service;  but 
he  had  a  pistol  ball  through  the  lungs  that  will 
end  him  by  morning,  anyway.  Here's  another  odd 
case,"  he  turned  to  Kob's  cot  taking  up  his  limp 
hand.  "A  Rebel  officer  picked  up  after  the  skirm- 
ish with  a  bullet  imbedded  in  the  frontal  bone.  I 
suppose  he  is  dead  by  this  time.  Ought  to  have 
died  in  an  hour;  but  these  Johnnies  are  tough." 

The  older  soldier  leaned  over  the  wounded  pris- 


168  CRAO-NEST. 

oner,  feeling  the  penetrated  forehead;  then  care- 
fully taking  the  pulse: 

"He  seems  to  me  pretty  far  from  a  dead  man, 
doctor,"  he  said  quietly.  "The  ball  may  not  have 
penetrated;  simply  contused.  Queer  case;  we  can 
examine  him  in  the  morning,  and  he  may  walk 
about  Camp  Chase  yet."  And  the  pair  passed 
along  the  ward,  forgetting  the  two  subjects  in  their 
discussion  of  new  ones. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Rob  Maury  again 
opened  his  eyes — this  time  without  pain — and 
peered  curiously  into  the  dim  shadows  of  the  im- 
provised ward,  trying  to  recall  the  strange  chances 
that  brought  him  back  to  the  familiar  spot — yet 
so  changed!  He  was  still  dizzy  but  felt  no  wound 
or  pain;  only  strange  weakness  when  he  sat  up  in 
his  cot.  So,  he  lay  quietly  back,  closing  his  eyes; 
and  rapidly  memory  rushed  clearly  back  to  the 
morning's  ride,  his  chase  for  the  worthless  horse, 
the  approach  of  the  enemy's  scout,  and  the  numb- 
ing blow  that  struck  him  from  saddle  and  left  all 
after  it  a  blank.  That  he  was  a  prisoner,  he  feared, 
but  he  could  only  conjecture  how  his  capture  came 
about;  whether  there  had  been  a  battle,  in  the  un- 
known interval;  if  Ravanel's  party  had  been  taken, 
too. 

Long  he  lay  dull  and  inert;  even  thought  an 
effort.  Then  he  heard  a  small  body  of  horse  gallop 
rapidly  up;  the  challenge  of  the  guard  and  call  for 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  169 

its  officer.  Soon  "Boots  and  Saddles"  sounded, 
close  followed  by  "To  Horse!"  A  sergeant 
clanked  down  before  the  ward,  recalling  the  guard, 
and  there  was  all  the  orderly  haste  of  a  sudden 
night  mount. 

Eising  to  his  elbow,  Maury  stared  through  the 
shattered  sash-work  to  tlie  huge  bonfire  before  the 
house;  seeing  the  men  collect  from  all  points,  as 
the  bugle  again  cut  the  night  with  clear  note  of 
the  "Assembly,"  as  the  officers  conferred  in  haste. 
Then  it  sounded  the  signal,  "March!"  and  the  col- 
umn filed  away,  shadowy,  into  the  night  beyond; 
leaving  only  a  few  nurses  and  disabled  men  about 
the  fire. 

The  ward  lay  still  as  death;  the  badly  hurt 
men  breathing  dully  under  opiates,  or  too  agonized 
to  note  aught  outside.  But  a  slight  movement  in 
the  next  cot  caught  Rob's  ear;  and  in  the  dim  light 
he  saw  the  wounded  scout  struggling  to  rise  and 
trying  to  call.    Then,  with  labored  gasps,  he  spoke: 

"Comrade!  Quick! — I'm — going — fast!  For 
God's  sake  dispatch^ — " 

lie  fell  back  stiff;  and  Rob,  nerving  himself, 
slipped  from  his  cot  and  leaned  over  the  sufferer, 
the  night  wind  cooling  his  brain.  And  again,  with 
last  effort,  the  scout  spoke — each  word  a  gasp: 

"I'm  Echols — Sheridan's  scout — God's  sake — 
dispatch — jacket  lining — take  my  horse — roan 
Thil'— " 


170  CRAG-NEST. 

There  was  a  gurgle  in  his  throat.  He  lay  gasp- 
ing heavily,  with  wide  staring  eyes;  and  Rob  me- 
chanically took  the  clammy  hand  in  his.  The 
scout  feebly  pressed  it,  closing  his  eyes  a  moment. 
Then,  with  great  effort,  he  raised  his  head — 
wrapped  in  blood-soaked  bandage,  and  gasped  out: 
"General  Wright — by  day-break  to — save  army! 
— ride,  comrade — all  up  with — me — Ah!" 

A  gush  of  blood  came  from  his  lips,  flooding 
his  breast,  his  head  fell  back  and  the  jaw  dropped. 

Echols  had  died  "on  duty!" 

Still  faint  and  dizzy,  strangely  weak  in  legs 
and  back,  the  Confederate  stood  for  a  few  seconds 
as  still  as  the  dead  man,  whose  grip  still  held  his 
hand.  But.  the  chaos  of  thought  quickly  took 
form,  as  the  night  wind  braced  his  nerves  and  a 
great  emergency  rose  before  him.  Then  —  with 
one  cautious  glance  about  the  deserted  Avard  and 
another  at  the  chattering  group  about  the  fire — he 
softly  reached  for  the  blue  coat  and  breeches  hang- 
ing at  the  dead  scout's  head. 

Stooping  in  the  shadow  between  the  cots,  sore 
of  limb  and  again  dizzy  with  the  effort,  Rob  drew 
on  the  clothes,  reached  for  the  dead  man's  boots 
and  pulled  them  on.  The  men  chanced  to  be  about 
the  same  size;  and  the  transformed  Rebel,  rising 
carefully,  passed  his  hand  across  the  cold,  dropped 
jaw  of  the  corpse.  To  his  joy,  he  found  the  face 
beardless  as  his  own;  and  his  nerves  tingled  with 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  171 

a  tonic  thrill,  as  his  hand  went  to  the  breast  of  his 
jacket  and  felt  the  dispatch  crinkle  and  twist 
under  his  touch. 

What  the  paper  might  be  he  could  not  stop  to 
guess.  It  was  from  Sheridan  to  Wright;  the  dy- 
ing words:  ^'■^j  daybreak — to  save  army!"  rang 
in  his  ears,  and  he  knew  Ms  general  must  read  it 
before  that  hour,  and  then — .  His  weakened  brain 
throbbed  in  his  ears  at  the  possibility  of  what  his 
work  might  accomplish;  and,  taking  the  Federal's 
broad  felt  hat,  he  pulled  it  low  over  his  own  brow. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  Rob  Maury  felt  the  sore- 
ness of  his  forehead;  the  puncture  in  the  skin,  that 
thrilled  down  his  very  spine  at  the  touch,  and  he 
realized  that  the  shot  that  stunned  him  must  have 
been  spent  by  distance  and  failed  to  penetrate  the 
bone. 

But  quick  moving  thought  did  not  delay  him, 
and  he  began  to  turn  softly  away,  buckling  the 
scout's  sabre  as  he  moved  between  the  cots. 

Suddenly  he  paused,  glanced  at  his  own  empty 
place  and  turned  back,  muttering  to  himself: 

"He  must  escape,  not  I." 

Just  then  a  sufferer  beyond  groaned  piteously, 
begging  for  water;  and  swiftly  Rob  stooped  be- 
tween the  cots,  scarce  breathing,  as  great  drops  of 
sweat  broke  out  upon  his  brow.  What  if  he  should 
fail — be  recognized  as  a  Rebel!  That  would  mean 
hanging,   for   Mosby's   reprisals   were   on   every 


172  CRAO-NE8T. 

tongue,  and  he  was  in  Federal  uniform.  But  that 
thought — a  mere  bagatelle  of  war's  chances — was 
swept  by  that  of  the  dispatch,  and  his  heart  grew 
cold  with  fear  of  failure — that  he  could  not  de- 
liver it  to  Gordon  in  time. 

Grasping  that  precious  paper — that  salvation 
of  Wright's  army — through  the  thick  cloth,  the 
boy  lay  still  a  few  seconds,  that  seemed  hours. 
Then  the  plaintive  cry  for  water  ceased,  and  Rob — 
assured  that  the  man  had  fainted  or  died — slowly 
drew  the  rough  sheet  from  his  own  cot;  rising  to 
his  knees  and  bracing  every  muscle  in  his  still 
throbbing  back.  Softly  and  slow  he  slipped  both 
arms  beneath  the  body  of  the  scout,  already  grow- 
ing cold  and  stiff  in  death  rigor.  Then  with  the 
strength  of  desperation — braced  by  the  grave,  un- 
known meaning  of  that  paper — he  raised  the 
corpse  slowly,  twisted  it  about,  and — 

Suddenly  a  cannon,  clear  but  distant,  sounded 
on  the  night;  and  the  gossipers  about  the  fire  arose 
with  one  accord. 

Motionless — great  beads  upon  his  brow,  from 
strain  on  brain  and  muscle — the  boy  stood  breath- 
less, holding  his  ghastly  burthen.  If  one  man 
came  in,  all  was  lost!  He  would  swing  from  a 
limb;  worse — Gordon  would  not  get  the  dispatch! 

But  the  men  stood  listening;  speaking  low  and 
nervously,  as  another  distant  gun  boomed  out. 
And  its  dull  echo  thundered  at  the  boy's  strained 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  173 

sense:  "The  signal  gun  for  attack!  You  will  be 
too  late!" 

With  straining  arms,  molten  lead  pouring 
down  his  spine  and  muscles  of  his  thighs  quivering 
under  their  tax,  he  slowl}'  turned  the  dead  man; 
laid  him  softly  on  his  own  cot  and  stretched  his 
own  cramped  limbs,  with  a  deep  breath  of  relief 
and  thankfulness.  Then,  as  he  threw  the  gray 
uniform  ostentatiously  over  his  bed's  head,  he 
slipped  the  stiff,  red  bandage  from  the  dead  man's 
brow,  putting  it  around  his  own.  And  he  was  the 
old  Kob  Maury  once  more;  for — spite  of  peril  and 
graver  anxiety  still  to  ride  away — a  smile  curved 
his  lips,  as  he  moved  off,  buckling  on  the  sabre  and 
muttering  to  himself: 

'^A  grim  masquerade;  but  my  head's  sorer  than 
his,  poor  devil!" 

The  men  about  the  fire  stared  with  some 
trepidation  at  the  tall  figure  that  strode  among 
them,  with  clanking  sabre  and  as  though  dropped 
from  the  clouds;  but  the  youth  gave  no  time  for 
query. 

"I'm  Echols — General  Sheridan's  scout,"  he 
said  gruffly.  "I'm  hurt  a  little,  but  all  right. 
Some  of  you  loafers  get  my  horse — a  roan;  answers 
to  name  of  'Phil.'  Damn  it!  ]Move!  I've  an  im- 
portant dispatch  for  General  Wright;  and  no  time 
to  los'e!     Hear  that!" 

Again  the  signal  gun  boomed  out  for  the  third 


174  CRAG-NEST. 

interval  and  the  Southerner's  heart  jumped,  as 
his  trained  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a  smoothbore. 
It  was  a  southern  gun  from  Three  Top  Mountain! 

"I'll  git  yer  horse,  comrade,"  a  maimed  trooper 
said.     ''Yer  don't  h>olv  sort  o'  peart,  ve'self." 

And  soon  he  came  back,  wrestling  with  the  bit 
of  a  huge  restive  roan;  high-headed  and  great- 
necked,  and  snapping  viciously  at  his  leader. 

"Guess  ye're  too  weak  to  ride  this  devil,"  the 
friendly  trooper  said.  "Yer  kin  git  my  mare, 
comrade;  but  she  ben't  fast  ez  him." 

"Better  ride  my  own  horse,  partner,"  Rob  an- 
swered briefly,  eying  the  restive  steed  and  noting 
holster  and  saddle  pocket  unremoved. 

He  approached  the  beast  that  backed,  planting 
his  feet  and  pulling  away  from  approach  of  a 
stranger;  and  a  cold  chill  ran  down  Rob's  aching 
back,  lest  detection  might  ensue.  Mechanically 
his  left  hand  sought  the  precious  dispatch  in  his 
jacket;  and — nerved  by  the  thought  of  lost  time 
and  what  might  depend  on  that  paper — all  his 
horse-sense  came  to  him.  His  right  hand  grasped 
the  bit,  his  left  hand  stroking  the  corded,  tossing 
neck — then  slipping  down  and  gripping  the  ex- 
panded muzzle,  as  he  cried: 

"aS'o-o.^     Phil!     Steady,  boy!     Whoa,  Phil!" 

Next  instant  he  had  his  mouth  against  the 
quivering  nostrils,  breathing  heavily  into  them; 
and  the  Northern  trooper  stared  at  the  unknown 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  175 

southern  trick,  as  the  horse — whether  from  bold- 
ness of  the  act  or  from  confident  touch — stood  still 
and  docile. 

"What  time  o'  night,  boys?"  Kob  asked  as  he 
clambered  stiffly  to  saddle  and  gathered  the  reins. 

"  'Bout  four;  two  hour  ter  sun,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "Ther's  ben  firin'  'cross  yon.  Guess 
Wright's  movin'  ter  hit  ther  Johnnies  by  day." 

^'Shure!"  put  in  another.  ''Custer's  callin'  in 
every  man  not  bad  hurt.  Ther  foragers  wuz  roun' 
while  back,  an'  cleaned  this  yere  camp.  Wright's 
a-movin',  sure  ez  shootin'!" 

Kob  waited  for  no  more.  Signal  guns  from 
Three  Top,  cavalry  moving  in  mass  along  Wright's 
left  at  Cedar  Creek,  Sheridan  sending  dispatch 
"to  save  the  army" — these  were  spur  enough  to 
his  intent;  and  he  dug  the  trooper's  sharp  ones  into 
the  brute's  gides. 

Away  across  field — over  the  south  fence — 
through  well  known  wood  and  dim  cross-road, 
sped  the  roan;  his  huge  stride  eating  space;  his 
rider  more  than  the  Wizard  tells: 

"  He  stayed  not  for  brake,  he  stopped  not  for  stone; 
He  swam  the  Eske  river,  where  ford  there  is  none! " 

But  racked  by  the  strain,  Kob's  head — more 
than  once  in  that  desperate  two-hour  race — bent 
low  to  the  horse's  tense  neck,  as  he  reeled  in  sad- 
dle and  a  red  mist  swum  before  his  eyes.    But  each 


176  CRAG-NEST. 

time,  out  of  that  red  mist  rose  the  mysterious  dis- 
patch; and  his  closed  eyes  saw  Gordon  tearing  it 
open,  reading  eagerly — then  hurling  his  division 
at  a  run  down  upon  Wright's  flying  columns.  And, 
each  time,  that  thought  straightened  him  up  in 
his  seat  and  the  spurs  went  home  again,  as  his 
hand  clutched  the  paper  and  a  thrill,  as  of  strong 
cordial,  ran  through  his  veins.  But  time  seemed 
dragging  snail-like,  though  the  cool  wind  whis- 
tled by  his  ears,  and  he  knew  his  detour  would 
bring  him  to  the  Valley  pike,  nearer  to  his  goal  by 
many  miles. 

Then  softly  the  solemn  mandate  that  crowned 
the  Creation  had  repetition — too  familiar  to  the 
eye  from  all  time  to  still  the  soul  in  wondering 
awe.  Along  the  eastern  ridges  showed  pale  gleam 
of  gray,  brightening  and  broadening,  until  The 
Voice  whispered  to  their  crests — "Let  there  be 
light!" 

The  sun  had  barely  given  the  Massanutten 
peaks  their  first  gilding  when  the  roan's  flying 
hoofs  struck  the  Valley  pike,  his  nearly  exhausted 
rider  still  driving  spur  cruelly  home.  For  plainer 
to  his  ear  came  the  dull  boom  of  cannon;  signal 
guns  no  longer,  but  in  continuous  roar  of  heavy 
battle. 

AVho  had  struck?  Who  was  stricken?  Brac- 
ing himself  in  saddle,  he  pulled  the  dispatch  from 
his  breast,  tore  it  open  and  read  rapidly. 


THE  HIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  177 

The  glow  came  back  to  his  cheek;  the  flame 
to  his  eye,  as  he  rose  in  stirrups,  waving  Sheridan's 
dispatch  aloft,  on  that  lonely  road.  For  it  told 
that  the  general  was  far  off;  that  he  would  reach 
Wright  before  Longstreet  could  combine  with 
Early;  and  it  ordered  him  to  hold  Cedar  Creek  to 
the  last  man! 

Now,  or  never!  Gordon  had  the  advance;  he 
could  be  reached  soonest.  Gordon  must  have  that 
paper  as  fast  as  hoofs  e'er  foaled  could  bear  it. 
Knowing  Sheridan's  plan — but  more  than  all,  his 
absence — the  Gray  could  strike  the  Blue  a  blow 
that  yet  might  sweep  him  from  the  Valley!  And 
Eob  again  gored  the  roan's  flanks,  bending  over  his 
neck  to  urge  by  voice  and  hand.  Then  suddenly 
he  turned  his  ear,  listening  intently;  for  over  the 
boom  of  cannon  and  crackle  of  musketry,  now 
plainly  heard,  the  man's  scouting  instinct  caught 
hoof  beats  ahead,  rapid  and  regular,  but  going 
from  him.  Half  checking  his  horse,  the  now  worn 
rider  still  smiled  to  himself,  as  he  glanced  at  his 
blue  uniform;  and  again  he  loosed  the  roan's  head 
and  drove  the  spurs  home. 

A  turn  of  the  road,  and  straight  before  him 
sped  a  rider  on  a  great  black  horse,  foam-flecked 
and  racing  as  though  for  life  or  death. 

With  eyes  riveted  on  him,  Rob  noted  the  man 
was  short,  stout  and  strong,  blue-clad  and  with 
some  rank  marks,  and  riding  as  though  a  Centaur. 

12 


CRAG- NEST. 


And,  as  he  took  this  in,  the  other  turned,  gave  one 
sharp  look,  then  beckoned  him  on,  as  though  recog- 
nized— ^yet  never  slackening  speed. 

Thought — lightning-like  in  peril — told  him 
there  was  but  one  road  for  him;  on — ever  on,  with- 
out stop  or  stay — until  Gordon  held  that  dispatch. 
So,  still  spurring  on,  his  right  hand  went  out  to 
the  saddle  holster  for  the  pistol  there. 

The  holster  was  empty! 

But,  ere  he  could  utter  the  oath  upon  his  lips — 
over  the  crest  ahead  poured  angry  waves  of  man 
and  horse  and  cannon;  all  in  one  mad  rush  rear- 
ward— panic-struck,  intermingled  and  rushing 
back  resistless!  And  this  on-surging  wave — 
sweeping  the  road  from  side  to  side — tumbling 
over  itself  as  storm-lashed  foam — drew  nearer 
every  second. 

Checking  his  black,  the  rider  ahead  again 
waved  quick  command  to  Kob,  shouting  some 
word  unheard  through  the  roar  of  panic  borne 
on  the  wind.  Then,  touching  the  spur,  he 
jumped  the  narrow  canon  to  the  left  and  still  rode 
onward  through  the  heavy  fields.  And  Rob — the 
surging  mass  of  fugitives  close  upon  him — gripped 
the  roan  closer  and  took  the  leap,  behind  him. 

And  both  sped  through  mud  and  ditch  and  fur- 
row, the  roan  closing  on  the  black,  as  his  rider 
watched  with  bated  breath  for  the  woods-road 
near  and  to  the  right. 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  179 

But  now  the  foremost  horseman  slackened 
speed — bending  low  to  saddle,  as  listening  for  dis- 
tant guns — the  roan  overlapped  him. 

"Halt!     Who  are  you?     Where  going?" 

The  quick  words  came  in  deep,  commandful 
roar,  the  speaker  turning  a  full,  bronzed  face, 
heavy-jawed  and  garnished  with  long,  red-brown 
mustache.  And  Rob,  checking  the  roan,  felt  he 
knew  that  face  somehow — somewhere — as  he  an- 
swered : 

"Courier,  sir,  from " 

"From  Colonel  Edwards,  at  Winchester.  Um ! 
he  told  me.  Ah!  You're  hit?  Much  hurt? 
Never  mind  that.  D — n  it,  you  must  ride!  Keep 
on  to  right.  I'll  find  Torbert  and  rally  these  tur- 
keys. You  must  find  General  Wright,  or  Crook! 
Eide  for  your  life,  man!     Tell  them  /  am  here!" 

"Tell  them—?" 

"D— n  it!  are  you  deaf!  Off  with  you!  Tell 
them — tell  everybody — Phil  Sheridan  has  come!" 

Still  speaking,  he  spurred  to  left,  'cross-fur- 
rows, Rob  Maury  sitting  stunned  one  instant. 
Again  his  hand  went  to  the  empty  holster;  checked 
midway  by  that  fervid  oath,  before  unuttered. 

He  had  been  riding  a  mile  behind  Philip  Sher- 
idan; had  taken  orders  from  his  lips;  was  still  in 
touching  distance  and — he  had  no  weapon! 

Then  quick  revulsion  came.  The  dispatch 
might  not  be  vital  now,  but  the  news  would  be 


180  CRAG-NE8T. 

grave  indeed,  that  Sheridan  was  bacl^;,  rallying  the 
rout! 

Again  the  spur!  Again  the  wild  and  scarce 
broken  rush;  the  road  above  blue  with  flying 
Federals,  the  boom  of  cannon  at  the  front  louder, 
but  less  frequent,  with  every  bound.  Then  came 
a  lull;  the  mass  of  fugitives  seemed  past,  while 
to  the  left,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  reel- 
ing columns  halted,  cheered  and  formed,  as  the 
great  black  steed  flashed  by  them — its  rider  wav- 
ing his  cap! 

Straight  to  right  the  roan  flies,  crossing  the 
pike.  Close  before  him  lies  Cedar  Creek,  its 
southern  bank  gray  with  rank  on  rank  at  swing- 
ing run;  and  the  curdling  "Rebel  yell"  cheers  him 
like  wine!  Into  the  stream,  through  it,  plunges 
the  roan — clambering  up  the  bank,  his  now  ex- 
hausted rider  clinging  to  his  mane.  Then  on 
again,  straight  for  the  lines  of  the  gray;  that  blue- 
clad  rider  waving  wildly  the  white  cloth  stained 
with  Echols'  blood. 

Hands  seize  the  reins,  bayonets  bristle  at  his 
face;  but  careless  of  them,  dizzy,  faint,  he  pants: 

"Take  me  to  the  general! — Great  news! — 
Quick!" 

They  lead  him  to  a  little  knoll,  where  grouped 
officers  sit  in  serious  council;  the  central  horse- 
man tall,  lank  and  grim.  His  keen,  gray  eyes 
seem  to  pierce  the  deserter,  as  he  pushes  the  damp. 


THE  RIDE  WITH  SHERIDAN.  181 

dark  hair  back  from  a  great,  bold  forehead;  and 
the  full,  stern  lips  show  beneath  the  gray-streaked 
mustache  and  stiff,  long  beard. 

"General,  a  Yankee  deserter!  He  claims  to 
have  news." 

"I  have,  sir;"  Rob  breaks  in  feeblj^  "General 
Sheridan  is  in — " 

"You're  late,  fellow!"  the  stern  lips  reply 
gruflfly.  "We  knew  yesterday  he  is  in  Washing- 
ton—" 

"No,  sir!  On  this  field — just  ridden  to  his  left 
for  Torbert  to  rally  the — " 

"Who  are  you?"  roars  the  Confederate  Com- 
mander of  the  Valley,  with  many  a  bounding  oath. 

"How  do  I  know  you  are  not  a liar,  you 

traitor  to  your  own — " 

Reeling  in  saddle,  the  other  straightens  up  to 
salute  and  answers: 

"I  am  Captain  Maury,  adjutant-general  of  Cal- 
vert's brigade,  sir!  Escaped  from  Yankee  hos- 
pital last  night;  rode  miles  with  Sheridan — this 
horse  his  scout's — spoke  with  him — have  his  mes- 
sage for — Wright — or " 

An  officer  caught  him  as  he  fell  frcm  the  roan; 
the  general,  gathering  his  own  horse  as  he  roared: 

"Sheridan  back! the  old  rat!  he  has  walked 

into  the  trap,  by !*      General,  double 

quick  your  division  and  form  on  Kershaw's  right! 

*  Fact.    Early's  words  on  learning  Sheridan's  return. 


182  CRAO-NE8T. 

Harrison,  gallop  to  front  and  sound  the  recall 

along  the  whole  line!     Look  to  the  boy!     D 

it!  he's  Avorth  a  regiment  of  scouts!  Major,  ask 
General  Gordon  to  hurry  all  his  artillery  to  the 
right!  Forward,  gentlemen!  This  time,  we  will 
crush  Sheridan !" 


'a  RICHMOND  "STARVATION'S''   RESULTS.  183 

CHAPTER  XV. 

A  RICHMOND  "  STARVATION'S  "'  RESULTS. 

"Yes,  Cousin  Wirt,  Coulter  Brooke's  to  have  a 
'starvation'  on  Friday,  and  you  are  specially  in- 
vited, if  you  cauH  walk  a  polonaise  with  a  grander 
lady  than  the  Russian  Crown  Princess!" 

And  Miss  Wythe  Dandridge  gave  the  mistress 
of  Crag-Nest  a  resounding  kiss,  and  just  touched 
her  lips  to  Colonel  Calvert's  mustache,  as  she  sat 
by  his  wheel-chair  at  the  officers'  hospital. 

The  veteran  looked  all  himself  again;  rosy, 
fresh  and  only  lacking  battle-tan.  The  gray  mus- 
tache —  longer  than  ever,  but  more  carefully 
tended — swept  healthy  and  smooth-shaven  cheeks, 
and  the  deep  eyes  danced  under  shadow  of  the 
bushy  white  brows,  with  kindly  merriment,  as  he 
answered : 

"I  kiss  Miss  Coulter's  dainty  hand,  Miss  Dan- 
dridge. But  we  are  not  so  sure  about  that  polon- 
aise; eh.  Cousin  Virginia?  This  old  thigh  of  mine 
must  be  all  right  right  now;  and  I'll  try  a  few 
steps  with  Doctor  Carter,  when  he  makes  his  next 
round." 

"You  well  know,  Cousin  Wirt,  how  I  would 
rejoice,  were  you  able  to  dance,"  Mrs.  Courtenay 


184  CRAG-NEST. 

answered  with  a  grave  smile;  sighing  softly  as  she 
added,  ^'or  to  ride  again." 

"I'll  be  a  new  man  by  the»time  muddy  roads 
permit  a  spring  campaign!"  he  laughed  back.  "I 
told  you  all,  at  Crag-Nest,  that  I  was  as  good  as 
two  dead  men.  Zounds!  I'll  be  better  than  two 
old  ones,  thanks  to  devotion  of  my  three  sweet 
nurses.  Do  you  know,  my  cousins," — his  face  grew 
graver  and  his  eyes  softened, — ''I  have  not  laid 
my  head  on  that  pillow  one  night  since,  without 
grateful  memory  of  Yal's  wonderful  constancy 
and  nerve;  and  of  your  brave,  dashing  ride,  you 
saucy  little  beauty.  Ah!  Cousiu  Mrginia,  God 
never  made  grander  women  than  those  with  whom 
He  blessed  our  state!" 

''Nor  grander  men,  my  kinsman,"  the  old  lady 
replied    softly.      ''Wythe,  have  you  inquired  for 


& 


^?" 


Major  Ravanel  this  mornin 

"Yes;  the  matron  tells  me  he  is  much  the  same," 
the  girl  answered  gravely.  "He  sleeps  more;  but, 
when  he  wakes,  the  fever  rises  and  he  talks  con- 
stantly. The  lady  in  black  never  leaves  him  now, 
day  or  night.     I  wonder  who  she  is !" 

"A  relative,  of  course,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  replied 
somewhat  stiffly.  "I  can  not  tell  why  her  face 
seems  familiar,  for  I  am  sure  we  never  met,  and 
she  treated  me  as  a  perfect  stranger  when  she 
came  to  the  hospital." 

"She's  gentle  and  good  to   him  as  his   own 


^'V^-^ 


A  RICHMOND  "STARVATION'S"  RESULTS.  185 

mother  could  be,"  the  girl  answered.  "What  a 
sad  chance  her  illness  is,  to  separate  such  a  mother 
and  son!" 

"He  will  come  out  all  right,"  Colonel  Calvert 
said  cheerily,  "These  wiry  fellows,  with  calm 
nerves  and  iron  will,  are  hard  to  kill.  Zounds! 
cousin,  you  never  would  recognize  Ravanel  in  the 
reckless  devil  that  charged  down  at  Opequon,  scat- 
tering the  Yankees  right  and  left — literally  hew- 
ing out  a  path  for  me.  Yet  he  was  cool  as  in 
your  drawing  room;  recollecting  every  cow-path 
through  those  woods.  But  for  him,  I  had  never 
troubled  you  dear  ladies  all  these  months!  But — 
allons!  This  is  'piping  time  of  peace,'  thanks  to 
the  mud.  We  will  forget  our  stern  alarums  and 
dreadful  marches  for  merry  meetings  and  delight- 
ful measures." 

Truly,  as  he  said,  another  winter  siesta  had 
come,  enforced  by  winter  rigor  that  made  roads 
everywhere  impassable  for  artillerj^,  wagon-trains 
and  aught  else  but  raiding  cavalry.  So  the  hostile 
lines — close  enough  to  each  other  for  pickets  to 
"chaff";  close  enough  for  dwellers  in  the  cities  to 
hear  their  desultory  firing — were  able  to  attempt 
no  formidable  movement.  Lee's  sleepless  vigi- 
lance—well seconded  by  that  of  his  generals — 
foiled  graver  intent  of  the  raiders  at  all  points;  and 
Early — sore  from  his  late  defeat,  yet  ever  watch- 
ful  and  tenacious   as   a   mastiff — was   watching 


186  CBAG-NEST. 

Slieridan's  repeated  efforts  at  surprise,  in  surly 
calm,  from  his  winter  quarters  near  Waynesboro. 

Meanwhile,  Richmond  was  strangely  gay,  after 
its  own  peculiar  fashion.  Many  officers  crowded 
the  capital  on  duty,  or  leave;  and  the  younger  of 
these— tired  and  worn  from  camp — were  equally 
famished  for  female  society  and  for  gaiety  and 
fun  of  every  sort.  And  the  Richmond  girls — ever 
ready  to  aid  and  comfort  their  soldier  boys  with 
needle,  bandage,  lint  and  equally-prized  words  of 
cheer — now  seemed  quite  as  ready  to  aid  their 
plans  for  mutual  pleasure. 

In  common  with  their  graver  elders,  these 
young  people  realized  that  the  strain  was  remitted 
for  the  moment;  possibly  they  recked  that  it 
would  renew  to-morrow,  for  the  final  crush.  Yet 
they  seemed  content  to  enjoy  the  day  with  all  the 
recklessness  of  long  restraint.  Dances  were  of  al- 
most nightly  occurrence;  not  those  generously  bril- 
liant assemblies  which  had  erst  crowned  Rich- 
mond "queen  of  hospitality,"  but  joyous  gather- 
ings of  young  people,  who  danced  as  though  the 
music  of  shells  had  never  drowned  that  of  the 
chance  negro  fiddler — who  laughed  and  flirted  as 
though  there  were  no  to-morrow,  with  its  certain 
skirmish  and  its  possible  blanket  for  winding- 
sheet.  Many  a  gallant  youth  had  ridden  direct 
from  dance  to  picket  line;  ere  next  noon,  to  jolt 
into  town  on  a  country  cart,  stiff  and  stark — a  bul- 


A  RICHMOND  ''STARVATION'S"  RESULTS.  187 

let  through  his  heart.  For  the  soldier  boys  were 
not  only  those  on  leave;  the  lines  close  to  the  city 
holding  many  willing  to  do  ten  miles  each  way  on 
horseback,  through  snow  and  slush,  for  one  waltz 
with  "somebody's  darling." 

These  "starvations,"  as  their  name  implied,  en- 
tailed no  waste  of  supplies,  vital  alike  to  soldier 
and  civilian;  for  a  law  infrangible  as  the  Me- 
dan's  limited  all  refreshments  to  ample  supply  of 
"Jeems'  River"  water.  Music  was  furnished  some- 
times by  ancient  negro  minstrels,  more  often  by 
dainty  fingers  of  some  clieerj^  matron;  always  by 
soft  voice  or  merry  laugh  of  "ladyes  fayre,"  for 
whom  each  knight  was  ready  to  do — or  to  die! 

The  more  saturnine,  and  the  more  hopeless, 
turned  eyes  ascant,  and  elevated  horrified  hands, 
at  these  "starvations;"  but,  as  Kob  Maury  had 
written  to  his  cousin:  "As  we  fellows  do  the  get- 
ting killed,  I  don't  see  why  the  old  goodies  object 
to  our  dancing  in  the  intervals  of  the  killing;  and 
I'm  coming  down  to  Coulter  Brooke's  german  sure, 
unless  old  Early  sends  for  me  for  special  consul- 
tation." 

But  this  winter's  siesta  was  widely  different 
from  that  first  one,  when  the  mistress  of  Crag-Nest 
had  welcomed  the  — th  Cavalry;  its  rest  being  fit- 
ful— fevered  with  the  hectic  of  long  strain — star- 
tled by  spectres  of  foreboding  that  would  not 
down  for  the  bidding.      For  war,  if  making  all 


188  CRAO-NEST. 

philosophers,  does  not  change  all  to  Stoics;  and 
there  were  those  who  seemed  to  feel  the  full 
weight  of  the  situation;  and  to  look  beyond,  with 
no  bright  vistas  intervening. 

Val  Courtenay  was  one  of  these.  The  girl  had 
grown  strangely  grave  and  sad;  no  flashes  of  her 
saucy  merriment  now  answering  Wythe's  sallies; 
and  when  the  latter  had  once  exclaimed  that  she- 
found  a  single  gray  strand  in  her  cousin's  black 
hair,  the  latter  had  only  smiled  gravely  and  an- 
swered : 

''What  matter,  Wythe?  The  only  wonder  is 
that  more  of  us  are  not  gray." 

But  her  old-time  sweetness  and  force  of  char- 
acter had  nowise  changed;  and  Val  went  about 
her  daily  duties — and  she  made  them  numerous 
and  all-engrossing — as  tried  member  of  that  tire- 
less band  of  veritable  Sisters  of  Mercy,  who 
soothed  the  pillow  of  suffering  and  strengthened 
the  feet  that  trod  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death. 

While  needful,  she  had  watched  ceaselessly  by 
the  bedside  of  the  soldier  she  had  saved;  and  still 
showed  devotion  to  that  task  in  his  rapid  recuper- 
ation, while  she  broadened  her  work  by  visitations 
to  Chimborazo  and  other  hospitals. 

One  crisp  November  noon,  as  the  girl  was  leav- 
ing the  officers'  hospital  on  one  of  her  charitable 
missions,  an  ambulance  drove  slowly  up;  and  in 


A  RICHMOND  ''STARVATION'S''  RESULTS.  189 

the  wrecked  form  of  the  sufferer  from  ghastly 
camp-fever,  she  recognized  Fraser  Ravanel.  Stub- 
born in  his  ideas  of  duty — and  seeming  possessed 
of  morbid  dread  of  being  sent  to  Eichmond — the 
young  colonel  had  ignored  the  surgeon's  orders; 
had  gone  on  duty  with  his  wound  still  unhealed, 
overexerting  his  failing  strength  in  the  weeks  of 
sleepless  anxiety  succeeding  Cedar  Creek.  At 
last,  mind  ceased  longer  to  coerce  matter;  seeds 
of  fever  sowed  in  the  overworked  system  stretched 
him  on  a  bed  of  illness,  that  should  have  been 
grave  warning.  But  still  Ravanel  resisted;  scoff- 
ing at  sick  furlough  and  dragging  himself  back  to 
duty  while  yet  unfit.  Resulting  relapse  gravely 
periled  a  life  too  valuable  to  lose;  and  his  general 
sent  him  to  Richmond,  while  still  in  mid-delirium 
of  fever.  So  it  was  but  the  wreck  of  the  man  she 
had  said  she  loved  three  years  before — whom,  in 
all  that  interval,  she  had  struggled  to  convince 
herself  had  ceased  to  be  aught  to  her — that  Val 
saw  lifted  from  the  van. 

Not  one  of  the  women  w^ho  waste  usefulness  in 
hesitance,  she  made  up  her  mind  at  once;  and — her 
face  deadly  pale,  but  quiet  and  resolved — she 
sought  the  matron  and  told  her  an  officer  she  knew 
seemed  desperately  ill;  that,  if  she  could  be  of  use, 
she  would  assist  in  nursing  him.  From  that  time, 
large  portion  of  each  day  was  spent  beside  the 
fever  patient's  cot;  and,  ever  striving  with  all  her 


190  CRAG-NEST. 

soul  and  honor  not  to  listen,  could  not  prevent  dis- 
jointed expressions  from  the  fevered  brain  reach- 
ing her  ears.  Nor  could  all  strength  of  will  she 
summoned  keep  the  blood  from  surging  to  her 
brain — or  still  the  flutter  of  the  heart  she  deemed 
so  fully  schooled — when  softer  tones  murmured  of 
other  days,  and  spoke  her  own  name  through  them 
all.  But  one  day,  moving  softly  to  her  post — a 
strange  calm  on  her  face,  reflecting  strange  peace 
in  her  heart — she  stood  transfixed;  her  feet  rooted 
to  the  floor  and  her  heart  stilled. 

Kneeling  by  her  patient's  bed  was  the  lissome 
form  of  a  woman,  clad  in  black;  her  arms  thrown 
about  the  sufferer's  neck,  and  her  soft  voice  call- 
ing his  name  in  that  one  universal  tone,  lent  by 
love  alone!  For  one  brief  second  Val  looked.  The 
next  she  turned  gravely  away,  moving  toward  the 
door,  with  head  erect,  but  with  that  hope  which, 
unwarned,  she  had  let  grow  full-statured  in  her 
heart,  lying  prostrate  there,  corpse-like. 

No  word  of  this  she  breathed  to  aunt  or  cousin; 
meeting  their  comments  on  the  beautiful  and  de- 
voted stranger  with  calm,  if  unmeaning,  answers; 
and  she  even  went  sometimes  to  Eavanel's  bedside 
— always  in  the  strange  woman's  rare  absences — 
explaining  quietly  to  the  matron  that  demands  of 
her  sick  at  Chimborazo  kept  her  away.  And,  in 
truth,  she  was  now  a  tireless  nurse;  going  early 
and  late,  until  the  colonel  warned  and  her  aunt 


A  RICHMOND  "STARVATION'S"  RESULTS.  191 

chided,  lest  she  wear  out  her  strength.  But  a 
grave,  sad  smile  was  ever  her  answer  to  them  and 
to  AVythe's  loving  petulance — that  she  "never  did 
see  such  a  girl!  We  might  as  w^ell  be  strangers, 
for  all  I  see  of  you!" 

But  through  that  long  week  there  ever  rose  in 
Val  Courtenay's  mind  one  query;  why  her  cousin 
was  so  gently  sympathetic,  but  so  little  grieved 
or  anxious,  at  Ravanel's  condition.  Spite  of  will, 
she  constantly  asked  herself  if  she  could  have 
been  mistaken;  if  Wythe  had  really  cared  nothing 
for  the  handsome  Carolinian,  when  she  cast  Hob 
Maury  off  so  strangely.  But  ever,  after  such  quer- 
ies, would  follow  fierce  self-contempt,  and  angry 
avowal  that  she  was  prying  into  what  did  not 
concern,  and  had  been  studiously  kept  from, 
her. 

But  one  night,  coming  in  later  than  usual,  and 
wearied,  brain  and  body  with  her  good  work,  she 
found  Wythe  sitting  before  the  fire,  in  night  ap- 
parel, embracing  her  knees  and  resting  her  fair 
head  upon  them. 

"Val  Courtenay!  You're  just  the  greatest 
goose  of  a  girl  I  ever  saw!"  Miss  Dandridge  ex- 
claimed, rising  and  extending  first  one  little  cro- 
cheted slipper,  and  then  the  other,  to  the  blaze — 
"wearing  yourself  to  skin  and  bone  and  getting 
crow's  feet  and  gray  hairs — for  'duty!'  I'm  sure 
you  owe  some  duty  to  yourself,  if  not  to  those  who 


192  CRAG-NEST. 

love  you!  But,  you're  the  dearest  old  Val,  just 
the  same!" 

And  suddenly — as  in  their  old  room  at  Crag- 
Nest,  after  their  first  quarrel — the  younger  girl 
threw  her  arms  about  her  friend;  and,  as  then,  the 
soft,  fair  hair  was  i)ressed  against  her  bosom. 
And,  as  then,  again  the  look  of  love  ineffable — but 
with  more  of  sadness  and  maternal  tenderness  in 
it — as  the  tall  head  bent  down  once  more  and  the 
quivering  lips  pressed  soft  upon  it. 

"I  tell  you,  Val,"  Wythe  exclaimed  a  little  later, 
swinging  the  little  slippers  nervously  as  she  sat  on 
the  bedside,  while  her  companion  disrobed,  "so 
much  has  happened  at  the  hospital  to-day.  Col- 
onel BavanePs  fever  left  him;  and,  Yal,  he's  just 
as  sane  as  you  are!  Doctor  Carter  let  him  see 
Cousin  Wirt  a  moment,  and  Cousin  Virginia  and  I 
wheeled  him  in.  They  would  not  let  him  talk;  but 
he's  such  a  prig  for  courtesy,  he  would  introduce 
his  sister — " 

Val  Tvheeled  round  upon  the  speaker,  her 
raised  hands  holding  the  masses  of  black  hair  that 
shadowed  a  face  ghastly  pale,  and  the  white  lips 
moved  soundless  as  they  formed  the  two  words 
in  repetition. 

"Yes,  she'd  been  across  the  lines;  business  or 
something.  She's  so  like  him;  gentle  and  soft- 
voiced  and  says  'ma^  just  like  him." 

The  other  woman  still  stood  staring,  the  motion- 


A  RICHMOyD   "STAMVATION'ii"  REtiULTS.  193 

less  hands  not  taken  from  her  hair,  but  the  color 
coming  slowly  back  to  her  cheek  and  lip,  as  she 
forced  herself  to  say: 

'^Sister!  Why,  he  told  ns  he  was  an  only 
child!" 

''He  never  told  mc  so,"  Wythe  answered  saucily, 
''lie  never  told  me  anything,  except  commonplace 
and  tactics.  But  he  is  a  perfect  gentleman,  Val; 
so  quietly  grateful  for  kindness,  or  courtesy.  Why, 
that  night  of  their  ball — he  is  a  lovely  dancer, 
though! — he  took  the  time  any  of  our  boys  would 
have  used  for  flirtation,  making  me  promise  not 
to  let  our  household  forget  him!  Now  isn't  he  a 
prig?" 

The  long,  nervous  hands  supporting  Val's  hair 
fell  before  her  in  soft  clasp;  the  color  deepening 
on  neck  and  bust  and  arms.  For  to  her  sight  rose 
the  loved  old  hall  at  Crag-Nest,  with  its  antlered 
rack;  a  man  and  a  woman  contending  for  a  sword 
beneath  it;  and  accusing  conscience  scoffed  bit- 
terly at  her  mis  judgment,  as  the  man's  voice  de- 
clared that  he  had  perfect  faith  that  Wythe  would 
not  forget  her  pledge. 

"And  Yal,  dear,  you  must  get  home  earlier  for 
to-morrow's  'starvation.'  That's  why  I  sent  Cap- 
tain Caskie  Cullen  off  when  he  brought  me  from 
the  hospital;  and  Coulter  was  sound,  as  I  ran  in  to 
kiss  her  good-night!  And  Cousin  Wirt  had — " 
The  crocheted  slippers  swung  nervously  and,  for 

13 


194  CRAG-NE8T. 

some  occult  reason,  the  glowing  cheek  took  on  a 
deeper  glow,  as  she  stopped  abruptly. 

"Well,  dear,  what  did  Cousin  Wirt  have,  to 
make  an  old  girl  like  me  go  to  the  dance?" 

Val  Courtenay  was  herself  once  more,  but  her 
voice  was  as  soft  as  the  flush  on  her  cheek  and  the 
light  in  her  great,  dark  eyes. 

"Oh!  nothing  he  had — yes;  he  had  a  letter  say- 
ing your — that  the  general  would  arrive  in  the 
morning,  and  that — I  believe  Captain  Maury  will 
be  with  him!" 

"I  had  a  letter  from  him,  too,"  Val  answered 
quietly.  "Dear  old  Eob!  How  glad  I  shall  be! 
You  know,  Wythe,  none  of  us  have  seen  him  since 
that  grand  ride,  that  set  the  whole  Valley  shout- 
ing his  j)raises!" 

"It  Kaa  a  brave  ride,"  the  other  answered 
dreamily,  staring  at  her  slippers. 

"But  why  should  that  take  me  to  'starvation,' 
Wythe?  Rob  would  rather  dance  with  the 
younger  girls;  you,  for  instance.  He  is  my  pet 
cousin,  but" — the  rare  old-time  smile  came  to  her 
lips — "as  I  believe  I  told  you  once  before,  I'm  old 
enough  to  be  his — -aunt!" 

"And  you  told  liim  so — that  night!"  Wythe 
had  slipped  from  the  bedside,  standing  before  her 
cousin,  the  blue  eyes  full  on  the  black  ones. 

"What  night,  dear?"  The  black  eyes  widened 
a  little,  in  wonder  at  the  tone. 


A  RICHMOND  " STARVATION  S"  RESULTS.  195 

"That  night  when  he — when  you — the  night 
that  Major  Ravanel  and  I — "  Again  Wythe 
paused  abruptly,  but  Avithout  a  blush. 

"Became  such  good  friends  that  you  would 
dance  with  scarcely  anyone  else?"  the  elder  fin- 
ished for  her. 

"He  danced  with  you  first!"  Wythe  retorted. 

"Only  one  little  turn,  dear."  YaFs  face  soft- 
ened and  the  light  in  her  eyes  grew  tender  at  mem- 
ory of  another  night;  a  night  under  this  very  roof, 
when  she  had  heard  his  pledge  to  dance  with  no 
woman  more,  until  they  met;  when  she  had  spoken 
words  her  lips  might  unsay,  but  her  heart — never! 

"And  then  you  went  off  with  liini — with  Cap- 
tain Maury;  and  I  heard — " 

"Heard  what,  little  sister?"  The  wonder  in 
Val's  face  conquered  reminiscence,  as  she  spoke. 

"Of  course,  it  was  chance,  Val!  I  know  you'd 
never  think  me  mean  enough  to  listen!  I  never 
mentioned  it  before,  because — oh!  Yal,  you  liiow  I 
didn't!"  And  ]\[iss  Dandridge,  illogical  as  her  sex 
ever,  burst  into  tears. 

"You  dear  little  mystery!  Come  to  your  ma!" 
Yal  laughed;  but  a  burning  flush  dyed  face  and 
bosom — tinting  even  the  long,  graceful  arms  that 
clasped  her  cousin — as  she  heard  her  own  voice 
form  that  last  word.  But  she  finished  bravely: 
"Now  tell  your  sister  M^hat  is  the  matter?" 

"It  was  only  chance!"   Wythe  sobbed.      "We 


196  CRAG-NE8T. 

had  no  idea — Captain  Ravanel  and  I — when  we 
went  into  the  conservatory — that  you  and  Rob^ — 
that  we'd  over — hear  you — you  refuse  him!" 

A  light  broke  over  the  broad  brow,  bowed 
above  the  fair  head — the  rosy  dawn  of  an  idea. 
Then  that  light  broadened  and  rippled  over  the 
flushed  face;  and  Yal  Courtenay — releasing  the 
soft,  plump  burthen  from  her  arms — threw  herself 
upon  the  bed,  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow,  and 
shook  with  overmastering  emotion. 

Wythe  stared  a  moment,  her  small  grief  stilled 
in  presence  of  a  burst  such  as  she  had  never  seen 
Yal  yield  to.  Then  the  plump,  white  hand  touched 
the  soft,  heaving  shoulder,  and  she  cried  plaint- 
ively : 

"Oh!  Yal,  don't!  Please, />/msfi  don't!  I  didn't 
mean,  dear — I  couldn't  help  it;  and  I  don't  care 
anything — much,  for  him — now!'' 

Moments  passed  before  the  sloping  shoulders 
stilled  and  the  clinched  hands  released  that  pil- 
low. Then  Yal,  after  what  seemed  a  great  strug- 
gle, controlled  herself  sufliciently  to  rise.  Even 
then,  as  she  turned  her  hot  face  upon  her  compan- 
ion's wondering  one,  a  strange  spasm  crossed  it 
and  Yal's  hands  pressed  hard,  commandful  on  her 
heaving  bosom.  But,  calming  herself,  she  said  with 
a  solemnity  that  to  Wythe  seemed  truly  awful: 

"So  i/ON  heard  me  reject — Rob  Maury!  Wythe, 
such    confidence   must     be — "    she   paused;    the 


A  nrCHMOND  ''STARVATION'S'''  RESULTS.  197 

strange  spasm  again  distorting  her  face — "sacred! 
God  bless  you,  dear — dearest  little  girl!  Never 
recur  to  this — until  I  give  you  permission.  Good- 
night, you  sweet  little  goo — !" 

She  broke  off,  clasped  the  bewildered  Miss  Dan- 
dridge  in  tighter  hug,  and  sprung  into  bed.  And 
Wythe,  lying  wakeful  in  the  darkness,  was  sure 
she  felt  the  soft  form  by  her  once  more  shaking 
with  emotion. 

The  next  was  a  busy  day,  indeed,  for  all  the 
Brooke  household.  The  general  arrived  for  early 
breakfast;  rotund,  jovial  and  ruddy  bearded  as  of 
yore,  but  none  the  worse  for  a  recent  serious 
wound.  With  him  came  Rob  Maury — the  house- 
hold hero  now,  but  refusing  to  be  lionized,  even 
when  the  general  told  the  table  that  he  had  ap- 
plied for  Major  Maury  as  member  of  his  staff. 

But  Val  managed  to  slip  away  alone  by  noon; 
and  when  the  whole  party  called  on  Colonel  Cal- 
vert and  Ravanel,  she  had  just  left  the  hospital. 

Dinner  was  over  and  house-clearing  for  "star- 
vation" done  when  the  girl  returned;  quiet  and 
with  the  seal  of  some  great  joy  upon  her  face. 
Wythe  sat  alone  on  the  wide  old  settee  in  the  hall- 
way, pretending  to  read;  and  laughter  floated 
from  the  open  door  of  the  pantry  near,  where  Coul- 
ter Brooke  and  Rob  Maury  waged  battle  royal 
over  a  captured  pie. 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  Yal!"  Wythe  cried, 


198  CRAG -NEST. 

with  a  petulant  toss  of  the  book.  "It's  awfully 
lonely— since  the  general  rode  away!" 

The  other  girl  sat  down,  taking  the  restless  lit- 
tle hand  in  hers;  but  the  knowing  smile  that  just 
moved  her  lips  left  them,  as  she  said  gravely: 

"I've  plenty  to  tell,  dear.  To  begin,  I  have 
seen  his — Colonel  liavanel's  sister.  We  met  in 
the  matron's  room,  and  she  stopped  to  thank  us 
all  for  the  little  we  had  done  for  him.  Somehow 
we  became  sympathetic;  and  I  know  her  story. 
Oh!  Wythe,  she  is  a  brave,  true  woman,  worthy 
of  her  race;  but  she  has  suffered  as  few  have,  for  a 
hasty  marriage,  against  all  opposition.  Her 
mother  was  relentless,  disowned  her  utterly;  for- 
bade all  mention  of  her  name — -even  erasing  it 
from  the  Bible.  The  husband  was  worse  than  any 
feared;  drunken,  dishonest,  cruel!  Finally,  he 
deserted  her  in  Washington  and  joined  the  Yan- 
kees— three  years  ago;  while  I  was  in  this  house; 
and  then  Colonel  Eavanel  sent  for,  and  cared  ten- 
derly for  her  since.  After  Cedar  Creek,  she  heard 
of  the  traitor's  death;  and  she  rejoices  that  her 
brother — whose  high  pride  of  name  she  knows — 
never  met  him  after  his  flight!" 

"How  dreadful!"  Wythe  exclaimed.  "Val,  do 
you  know  I  think  it  terribly  dangerous  for  any 
girl  to  marry!" 

"I  am  afraid  it  is,  some — "  the  other  began; 
but  the  battle  of  the  pie  surged  out  of  the  pantry. 


A  RICHMOND  "STARVATION'S"  RESULTS.  199 

veering  toward  them ;  and  then  Coulter  Brooke  fled 
up  the  stairs,  leaving  the  new  major  master  of  the 
sticky  spoils. 

"Hello!  Cousin  Val!  I  captured  the  commis- 
sary stores!     Have  a  bite?" 

He  advanced  flushed  and  breathless;  but  Wythe 
rose  stiflly  and  stepped  into  the  wide-swung  door 
of  the  pantry. 

"Sit  here,  you  great  boy!"  Val  answered.  "I 
want  to  borrow  your  memory  a  moment." 

"All  right;  but  I  won't  lend  you  my  pie!"  he 
answered,  describing  a  great  arc  in  it  with  strong 
teeth.     "Now,  commence  firing!" 

"Rob,  you  remember  the  ball  we  gave  to  the 
regiment?  Well,  when  you  and  I  went  into  the 
conservatory,  and  you  were  raging  about  Captain 
Ravanel's  devotion  to — "  His  mouth  was  too  full 
for  speech;  but  the  youth's  eyes  rolled  in  piteous 
entreaty  toward  the  pantry  door.  Still  Val  went 
on,  even  raising  her  voice — "to  our  pretty  little 
cousin,  I  told  you  love  was  a  delusion;  that  I  knew, 
for  I  was  old  enough  to  be  your — aunt!" 

"Val!  for  heaven's  sake — "  With  a  huge  ef- 
fort and  a  huger  swallow,  Rob  got  out  the  hoarse 
whisper,  his  juice*stained  hand  pointing  to  the 
pantry  door,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet.  But  Val — 
blind  as  deaf  to  all  entreaty — went  on,  loud  and 
relentless: 

"But,  Rob,  none  of  us  know  anything  about 


200  CRAG-NEST. 

it.  You  were  wiser  tlien — and  ever  since — in  tell- 
ing me  how  well  you  loved — dear  little  Wythe!" 

She,  too,  rose  to  her  feet;  premonitory  rustle  of 
impending  flight  coming  through  the  door,  as  she 
placed  both  firm  hands  upon  the  boy's  shoulders, 
and  added  rapidly: 

"Later,  in  my  folly,  I  said:  'Better  one  fool 
than  two!'     Rob,  /  was  the  fool,  then!" 

With  sudden  movement,  she  pushed  the  sur- 
prised warrior  back  into  the  [>antry;  and,  before 
she  could  reach  the  stair's  head,  the  wild  wail 
floated  up  to  her: 

"Oh,  Rob!  Of  course  I  do.  Don't!  You've 
stained  my — 'starvation'  dress!" 

But  the  bright  smile  it  brought  to  her  lips 
faded  from  her  face  before  the  tender  glow  of  light 
from  within,  as  Val  Courtenay  pressed  her  fore- 
head against  the  cool  pane,  and  gazed  through  the 
fast-coming  dusk  at  the  distant  hospital. 

Then  she  seated  herself  at  the  escritoire,  writ- 
ing rapidly  and  with  firm  hand: 

"Full  confession  of  fault  humiliates  only  false 
pride.  To  iliai,  penance;  to  true  regret,  it  is  best 
solace.  In  your  fever,  frequent  words  made  me 
pity  you  much — myself  far  more.  Since  I  met 
your  sister,  my  sin  against  you — equally  against 
myself— stands  bare  before  me.  If  you  can  for- 
give it,  God  will  be  merciful!  And  He  knows  how 
truly  I  would  expiate  it,  by  lifetime  duty  to  that 


A  RICHMOJSD  '' STARVATION'S''   RESULTS.  201 

truth  I  misjudged  so  blindly.  Contrite  for  the 
past — with  no  false  pride  for  the  present — I  write 
what  I  once  bade  you  call  me, 

"Always  yours, 

"Valerie." 

Never  reading  the  words,  she  slipped  them  in 
an  envelope,  sealed  and  addressed  it:  "Colonel 
Fraser  Ravanel,  Officers'  Hospital." 

Then  she  bent  her  face  long  upon  the  white 
hands,  lifting  her  soul  in  meekness  toward  the 
Throne's  foot.  And,  when  she  raised  it,  the  last 
ray  of  the  winter  sunset  struggled  through  the 
shadows  and  touched  her  forehead! 


202  CRAG-NSST. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    TORCH    AT    CRAG-NES'. 

The  soft,  warm  afterglow  of  September  dusk 
fell  upon  the  broad  piazza,  wrapping  in  its  rosy 
gray  the  occupants  of  two  ample  straw  rocking- 
chairs;  but  the  last,  lingering  kiss  of  the  day  god 
still  flushed  the  far  crest  of  old  Massanutten,  as 
waiting  the  stealthy  creep  of  Diana  to  steal  it 
from  that  hoary,  three-headed  custodian. 

"That  new  coat  of  paint  warms  up,  even  in  this 
light.  Cousin  Wirt.  Indeed,  the  home  looks  al- 
most like  the  old  days  once  more." 

The  speaker  sighed  softly,  as  the  long,  white 
hands  fell  gently  to  rest  in  her  moire  antique  lap ; 
though  the  sound  was  not  of  sorrow,  but  of  full 
contentment,  and  her  slim  slippers  crossed  in 
stately  comfort,  as  she  added: 

"But  you  are  always  so  thoughtful  and  so — 
generous.  Pardon  me,  kinsman,  but  I  fear  none 
of  us  can  well  afford  luxuries  in  these  days." 

"Luxuries!  Cousin  Virginia,  Mon  cllcu!  fresh 
paint  is  a  necessity.  And  besides,  this  is  not  my 
doing,  but  Ezekiel's.  I  only  furnished  the  paint; 
he  gave  the  talent.  You  remember  the  day  we  last 
rode  away  from  the  dear  old  place,  I  told  Ziek 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  20;J 

that  be  was  a  i^erfect  gentleman,  for  all  his  black 
skin?  Now  he  looms  up  as  an  eminent  artist. 
Zounds!  I  have  seen  great  paintings  in  the  Paris 
galleries  that  gave  me  less  satisfaction  as  works 
of  art.  1  was  saying  so  to  the  general  this  after- 
noon!" 

A  little  pause,  punctuated  by  a  half  sigh.  Then 
the  lady  said: 

"He  told  me  so.  He,  too,  is  ever  thoughtful. 
Cousin,  in  all  my  years  I  have  never  met  such  a 
young  man!" 

"You  are  right,  as  ever.  Cousin  Virginia,"  came 
the  hearty  response.  ''But  for  him,  you  dear 
women  would  now  be  plaiting  wreaths  for  my  mod- 
est mound,  somewhere  yonder.  Zounds!  I  remem- 
ber, as  though  but  yesterday,  the  ping  of  that  Win- 
chester that  tumbled  me  out  of  saddle.  Your  gen- 
tle tending — and  the  girls'— brought  me  back  to 
life,  kinswoman;  but  he  brought  me  to  you!" 

"But  for  him,  none  of  us  might  be  here  now," 
Mrs.  Courtenay  answered,  somewhat  dreamily,  as 
the  calm  eyes  peered  rather  into  reminiscence  than 
the  dusk  beyond.  "Ah!  kinsman,  those  were  try- 
ing days;  but  with  you  and  the  dear  children  under 
the  roof  again,  I  can  forget  them — almost." 

"Entirely,  if  you  can,"  he  broke  in.  "When 
Mars'  Robert  gave  his  sword  to  Grant,  six  months 
ago,  the  v/ar  ended  for  me.  1  am  still  a  trifle  un- 
reconstructed, perhaps,  but  I  strive  to  look  ahead 


204  CRAG-NEST. 

and  not  behind  me.  There  is  other  work  in  life 
than  fighting;  and,  zounds!  the  men  of  Virginia 
have  plenty  of  it  to  do — and  her  noble  women,  too! 
Void!  Crag-Nest  looks  like  a  bride  herself;  and  to- 
morrow— " 

"Yes;  God  be  thanked  for  to-morrow!"  the 
lady  broke  in — ''and  for  the  peace  that  makes  it 
possible.  Ah!  Cousin  Wirt,  I  grow  young  again  in 
their  happiness.     Hear  that! — " 

A  ringing  peal  of  girlish  laughter  broke 
through  the  darkening  dusk.  A  moment  later 
feet  crunched  the  fresh-raked  gravel  of  the  walk, 
and  a  tall,  stalwart  form  strode  into  view,  with  a 
more  shadowy  one  clinging  to  his  arm.  The 
laughter  ceased;  the  tall  head  seemed  to  bend 
down  an  instant.  Then  silence  fell  as  the  pair 
rapidly  approached  and  mounted  the  familiar, 
broad  steps — creaking  now  no  longer  beneath  the 
firm  tread. 

"And  nothing  on  your  head,  my  child,"  Mrs. 
Courtenay  said  mildly.  "Ah!  Master  Rob,  you 
will  have  to  learn  to  take  better  care  of  our  baby 
than  this." 

"Really,  Cousin  Virginia,  I  don't  think — "  the 
youth  began. 

"Major  ]Maury  is  excusable,  kinswoman,"  Gen- 
eral Calvert  finished  for  him.  "You  are  too  cxige- 
ante.  How  can  a  young  gentleman  think  of  any- 
body's head,  under  circumstances  which  warrant 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  206 

losing  his  own?  Zounds!  my  little  cousin,  in  his 
boots,  I  believe  I  should  walk  upon  my  head." 

'^I'll  run  in  and  make  Esther  light  up,"  Miss 
Dandridge  replied,  somewhat  incousequently.  "It 
is  supper  time,  and  we  were  just  saying  we  were 
both  awfully  hungry." 

"I  thought  so,"  the  veteran  answered  quietly; 
and  as  the  fair  girl  tripped  into  the  dim  hall,  her 
cavalier  seated  himself  upon  the  step,  struck  a 
modern  match  and  applied  it  to  the  bowl  of  a  fra- 
grant briar-root  pipe. 

There  was  a  quiet  ijause,  while  the  attention 
of  the  trio  might  have  been  concentered  on  the 
red-glowing  pipe. 

The  sky  behind  the  mountains  whitened  sud- 
denly, the  cloud  edges  catching  the  gleam  of  mol- 
ten silver.  Then  the  full  disc  of  the  moon  popped 
suddenly  up  over  old  Three-Top,  sending  her  slant 
shafts  of  light  full  upon  the  group,  and  dropping 
their  reflections  broad  and  clear  upon  all  inter- 
vening space. 

"I  am  an  awkward  cub  of  a  fellow.  Cousin  Vir- 
ginia," the  young  soldier  blurted  out  abruptly.  "I 
have  never  once  told  3'ou  how  grateful  I  am.  But 
God  knows  I  appreciate  the  blessing  He  gives  me; 
and  I'll  try  to  prove  to  you  that  I  deserve  it!"  He 
puffed  thoughtfully  a  moment,  sending  fragrant, 
blue  wreaths  against  the  white  moonlight. 

"I  believe  you  do  deserve  her,  Rob."    There  was 


206  CRAGNEST. 

gentle  gravity,  but  loyal  assurance,  too,  in  the 
matron's  tone.  "And  you  will  prove  it,  my  boy, 
for  the  blood  of  the  Cabbells  is  in  your  veins." 

"And  my  duty  to  you  is  done,  sir,"  the  older 
soldier  added.  "My  promise  to  your  father  is  ful- 
filled. Mon  dicu!  Nothing  can  make  a  man  of 
you   like  possession  of  such  a  woman!" 

For  a  moment  Rob  Maury  was  silent,  smoking 
with  short,  nervous  puffs.     Then  he  cried  bluntly: 

"Wasn't  I  a  donkey,  though!  To  think  Wythe 
was  flirting  with  liavanel,  and  make  myself  miser- 
able— worse  than  that!  to  make  her  so — two  whole 
years.  General,  1  ought  to  be  reduced  to  the 
ranks!" 

"Sentence  approved  and  referred  to  your  new 
commanding  officer,"  General  Calvert  answered 
laughingly.  But  there  was  a  strange  softness  in 
his  tone;  and  he  reached  out  a  firm  hand,  resting 
it  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  as  he  added: 

"You  have  done  credit  to  your  race,  sir;  for  four 
long  years.  A  brave  gentleman  can  not  be  a  don- 
key long,  liob,  and  you  would  never  have  mistaken 
had  you  loved  less  loyally." 

"He  never  makes  mistakes!"  Master  Rob  mut- 
tered— more  to  himself  than  in  reply.  He  jerked 
his  head  toward  two  others,  coming  rapidly  from 
the  gate;  then  hid  himself  in  silence  and  a  dense 
cloud  of  smoke. 

"Oh!  Aunt  Virginia,  she  will  be  here  at  day- 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG- NEST.  207 

light!  Wg  walked  over  to  the  station  and  found 
a  telegram,  telling  us  the  train  broke  down  at 
Weldon!" 

Valerie  Courtenay's  voice  had  the  same  clear, 
rich  ring  as  of  yore;  but  the  tears  had  all  dried  out 
of  it  now,  replaced  by  the  thrill  of  full  contentment; 
and  the  tone  was  the  saucy,  girlish  one  that  had 
charged  Rob  INlaury  with  desertion  on  that  same 
spot   four  years  before, 

"There  was  a  dispatch  for  you,  too.  General 
Calvert,"  her  companion  said,  mounting  the  steps 
and  handing  the  dingy  envelope. 

"Thank  you.  General  Eavanel.  ^Yith  your 
permission,  ladies,"  the  veteran  said;  and  rising, 
as  the  hall  lamp  gleamed  out  bright  and  clear,  he 
moved  toward  the  door  and  broke  the  seal. 

"I  am  more  rejoiced  than  I  can  tell  you.  Gen- 
eral Ravanel,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  said  earnestly. 
"To  have  my  old  schoolmate  under  my  roof — after 
all  these  years,  quite  fills  the  measure  of  my  joy 
for  to-morrow — and  your  sister,  too,  general,"  she 
added  suavely.  "As  your  mother's  daughter,  she 
would  be  welcome,  even  had  Richmond  not  taught 
us  all  to  love  and  know  her  high  womanhood." 

"Yes,  it  would  not  have  been  complete  with- 
out— sister."  Valerie  hesitated  only  a  second,  be- 
fore the  word;  but  the  dark  eyes  she  raised  to  her 
lover  had  in  them  a  depth  of  love  born  of  grateful 
memory. 


208  CJiAG-NEST. 

"You  both  know  how  I  delight  to  hear  you 
speak  so,"  Kavanel  answered  in  his  quiet  way — 
"and  to  feel  that  it  is  deserved.  There  are  no 
women  to  me,  in  all  the  world,  like  ma  and  sister!" 

"Say!  Cousin  Val!"  Major  Maury  whispered, 
out  of  his  cloud,  to  the  girl — "that's  treason.  But 
you'll  teach  him  to  talk  differently  after  a  while." 

"Never  doubt  it,  Rob!"  she  whispered  back, 
in  her  old  saucy  way.  "Suppose  we  begin  now. 
Just  offer  me  your  arm  for  a  stroll  in  the  conserv- 
atory, and  repeat  that  declaration  you  made  me 
at  the  ball  and — " 

"Hush!  Here  conies  AVythe,"  he  interrupted 
uneasily.  "Don't  remind  her  of  what  a  donkey 
I  made  myself;  for,  in  her  goodness,  she  pretends 
to  forget  it!" 

"Of  course  she  does,"  INIiss  Courtenay  retorted, 
in  the  same  low  tone — "since  you  shared  with  her 
what  was  dearer  than  life;  what  you  refused  me!" 

He  only  stared,  taking  the  pipe  from  his  lips; 
but  she  went  on: 

"Didn't  I  peep  over  the  banisters,  that  evening 
of  the  'starvation,'  and  see  you  divide  that  pre- 
cious pie — " 

"Bother  the  pie!  Please  hush!"  And  the  ex- 
major,  C.  S.  A.,  jammed  his  broad  shoulders 
against  the  pillar  and  puffed  denser  clouds  than 
before. 

"More  good  news,  kinswoman!"  General  Cal- 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  209 

vert  cried,  coming  from  tlie  hall  with  one  hand 
captured  by  AVjthe's  plump  little  one,  and  the 
other  extending  the  brown  dispatch.  "General 
Buford  telegraphs  that  my  letter  followed  him  to 
Washington,  and  he  will  be  down  just  in  time  for 
the — event." 

"He  will  be  welcome,  Cousin  Wirt,"  the  matron 
answered  frankly,  but  gravely.  "I  had  never  ex- 
pected to  ask  a  Union  officer  to  cross  the  thres- 
hold of  Crag-Nest,  socially;  but  respect  for  the  man 
— no  less  than  gratitude — makes  Mister  Buford 
welcome,  in  spite  of  his  uniform." 

"Zounds!  madam;  you  don't  expect  him  to  wear 
it?  I  tell  you  that  old  Frenchman  was  right:  We 
know  a  man  when  we  have  fought  with  him!"  the 
old  soldier  cried  warmly.  "Buford  is  a  true  gen- 
tleman, as  well  as  a  true  soldier.  I'll  risk  my 
parole,  kinswoman,  that  he  comes  in  mufti T 

The  lady's  face  was  still  grave;  but  she  made 
no  reply,  before  Ezekiel  appeared  in  the  doorway. 
Resplendent  in  immaculate  expanse  of  collar  and 
front,  that  shamed  even  his  halcyon  days  of  the 
war,  the  old  black  wore  a  dress  coat  of  startling 
length  of  skirt,  and  trowsers  of  amplest  width; 
both  fresh  and  shining  from  the  tailor's  hands. 
Under  his  arm  he  bore  a  massive  silver  waiter;  and 
there  was  rejuvenescence  in  the  voice — punctuated 
by  a  stately  bow — that  announced: 

"Da  missus'  tea  am  served!" 

14 


210  CRAG -NEST. 

Still  silent,  Mrs.  Courtenay  rose,  passed  her 
arm  into  her  kinsman's  and  moved  stately  to  the 
old  dining-room,  the  younger  pairs  following  with 
less  state, 

"Oh!  Fraser,  how  could  you?"  Valerie  whis- 
pered, her  glance  flashing  to  Ezekiel's  new  suit. 

"He  won  his  spurs,  as  my  aid  that  day,"  he 
answered  softly;  one  of  his  rare  smiles  lifting  his 
mustache — "and  Sheridan  dismounted  him,  with 
the  rest  of  us.  He  will  lose  enough,  in  losing  his 
'young  missus'  to-morrow,  not  to  have  at  least  the 
solace  of  a  new  uniform." 

Very  different  were  the  feelings  of  those  seated 
around  that  hospitable  board  now — almost  as  dif- 
ferent was  the  feast  spread  upon  it — from  those 
days  of  war.  Plenty  had  not  yet  spread  her  fos- 
tering wings  above  the  Valley;  but,  even  in  those 
early  days  the  pressure  of  dire  want  had  ceased  to 
bear  so  heavily  upon  its  dwellers.  And,  to  those  at 
Crag-Nest,  comfort  had  returned  exceptionally 
soon;  and  its  fruits  were  never  so  sweet,  as  when 
the  mistress  of  the  manor  shared  them  with  those 
about  her. 

And  this  was  the  last  family  supper,  before  the 
tangled  threads  of  Fate  would  form,  for  four  of 
them,  into  that  gentle  but  binding  knot,  which  only 
the  hand  of  Him  who  blesses  it  may  loosen  for- 
ever. But  the  love  that  makes  the  dinner  of  herbs 
more  savory  than  the  stalled  ox  was  present  there; 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  211 

and  the  thought  of  partings,  on  the  morrow — if 
they  came  at  the  moment — only  mellowed  the  joy 
of  present  reunion  and  future  hopes. 

But  at  last  Mrs.  Courtenay  said  gently: 

"To-morrow  will  be  the  day  of  your  lives,  my 
children.  We  must  be  astir  early,  to  welcome  dis- 
tant friends;  and  you  should  have  your  full  'beauty 
sleep.'  Young  gentlemen" — she  rose  as  she  spoke 
— "I  hold  it  as  true  Virginian  hospitality,  as  it 
was  Grecian,  to  'Welcome  the  coming,  speed  the 
parting  guest.'  " 

A  few  minutes  later  Ezekiel  held  the  bits  of 
two  horses,  champing  at  the  door.  Two  couples, 
a  little  apart  on  the  broad  piazza,  spoke  low  fare- 
wells; and  then  sounded  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  as  the 
young  soldiers  galloped  away  through  the  moon- 
light to  the  neighboring  farmhouse  that  furnished 
their  temporary  lodgment. 

The  delicate  intuition  of  the  older  pair  held 
them  in  perfunctory  discussion  of  some  trifle  of  to- 
morrow's decoration;  but,  when  the  girls  demurely 
came  for  their  good-night  kiss,  the  fervent  lips  of 
the  old  lady — the  grim  mustache  of  the  veteran — 
alike  pressed  it  upon  each  fair  brow  with  the  pure 
tenderness  of  a  sacrament. 

Nowhere  are  the  days  of  early  autumn  brighter 
or  more  crisp  than  in  the  Valley  country  of  Vir- 
ginia; and  this  one  was  ideal  in  its  temperature. 


212  CRAG-NEST. 

Onlj'  fleeciest  clouds,  here  and  there,  flecked  the 
broad,  blue  dome,  toward  which  higher  peaks 
seemed  to  stretch  upward  longingly  through  the 
transparent  atmosphere.  On  the  levels,  lazy  cat- 
tle lay  ruminant,  while  from  the  coverts  came  the 
distance-softened  whirr  of  wings,  or  soft  sound  of 
insects. 

"And  Nature's  voices  all  accord, 
In  song  of  brook,  or  pipe  of  bird. 
To  sing,  or  wliisper,  one  sweet  word 
And  that  is — Peace!  " 

Noon  was  well  past,  and  already  the  sun — rap- 
idly" dropping  westward  from  his  zenith — began 
to  lengthen  the  mountain  shadows,  as  memories  of 
the  past  stretch  out  to  days  of  life's  decline. 

The  double  wedding  was  over.  In  the  delapi- 
dated,  rustic  church  near  by,  a  white-haired  bishop, 
in  whose  veins  also  mingled  the  blood  of  the  Cal- 
verts  and  the  Cabbells,  had  spoken  the  solemn 
words  that  linked  four  souls  "until  death  do  us 
part."  And  now  his  grace  sat  at  the  right  hand 
of  his  hostess,  as  the  family  party  finished  the 
wedding  dinner,  in  the  memory-peopled  dining- 
room.  At  opposite  end  of  the  board.  General  Cal- 
vert presided  with  a  grand  dignity,  that  struggled 
for  supremacy  with  a  joyous  honhommk  which  no 
feast  of  all  his  Parisian  experiences  had  called 
forth;  his  especial  attentions  showered  upon  the 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  213 

stately,  high-bred  Carolina  dame  at  his  right.  Her 
clear-cut  features  and  still  elastic  grace  of  figure 
might  have  denied  maternity  of  the  younger  gen- 
eral, next  to  her,  had  not  the  recent  war  been 
fecund  of  promotions  singularly  rapid.  Opposite 
sat  the  pale,  delicate  and  reserved  "portrait  in 
little"  of  her  mother,  Kuth  Ravanel;  but  the  gray 
strands  gleaming  through  the  glossy  black  of  her 
hair — and  the  severe  simplicity  of  her  black  silk 
gown — hinted  at  less  kindly  pressure  upon  her  of 
Time's  omnipresent  hand. 

But  never,  of  old,  had  "ladye  fayre"  craved 
more  courtly  cavalier  than  he  who  sat  beside  her; 
tall,  soldierly  and  bland,  in  faultless  morning-suit, 
innocent  of  hint  that  Pattison  Buford  had  ridden 
down  that  Valley  by  the  light  of  flaming  roofs — 
that  the  voice,  now  tuned  to  society's  pitch,  had 
ever  thundered  ''Charge!"  upon  the  very  men  who 
tendered  now  fraternal  welcome,  with  something 
beyond 

"  The  stern  joy  that  warriors  feel 
In  foemen  worthy  of  their  steel!  " 

"That  is  the  worst  feature  of  a  country  so  large 
as  ours,"  General  Buford  was  saying.  "The  very 
magnificence  of  distances  prevents  our  knowing 
how  charming  society  may  be  just  beyond  us.  In 
my  own  case  now,  only  the  accidental  call" — he 
paused  imperceptibly,  delicately  avoiding  even  al- 


214  CJiAG-N£ST. 

lusion  to  duty — "business  at  Washington,  made 
it  possible  for  me  to  reach  here  and  assist  at  one 
of  the  most  grateful  occasions  of  my  life." 

"I  am  not  sure,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  answered 
suavely,  "that  there  are  not  compensations  in  dis- 
tance— at  times  in  our  lives.  But,  in  your  case, 
sir,  we  are  deeply  debtors  to  business  for  its  acci- 
dent; and  I  sincerely  hope" — she  gravely  raised 
her  glass  with  firm  hand,  as  her  eye  met  his  with 
the  pretty  pride  of  hospitality — "that  you  may 
never  again  be  so  near  Crag-Nest,  without  honor- 
ing its  threshold  by  crossing  it." 

"Permit  me,  General  Buford,  to  join  in  my  kins- 
woman's wish,"  the  veteran  cried,  beaming  as  he 
raised  his  glass,  "to  our  guest  and — brother  sol- 
dier!" 

Ravanel  and  Maury  raised  their  glasses — the 
former's  as  yet  untouched;  and  that  uncompromis- 
ing daughter  of  the  commonwealth  that  gave  the 
Union  her  "First  Rebel" — the  mistress  of  Crag- 
Nest — bent  her  grand  head  in  courteous  sanction 
of  the  pledge  of  peace  to  "the  enemy." 

Then  Ezekiel  moved  gravely  round  the  board, 
placing  fresh  glasses,  of  thinnest  make,  at  every 
place;  pausing  by  his  mistress,  waiting  her  com- 
mand. As  he  did  so,  the  moving  of  wheels  grated 
on  the  gravel  without. 

"Dearest  and  best  pledge  of  all  must  be  our 
last,"  she  said  in  softened  tones.  "And  time  warns 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  215 

that  it  must  be  given  now.  Cousin  Wirt,  the 
health  of  the  brides!" 

Ezel?;iel  had  vanished  at  a  sign  from  her.  Now 
he  reappeared,  bearing  upon  his  salver  a  dim  and 
dusty  bottle;  its  neck  resting  stiffly  uj)on  a  folded 
napkin. 

''This  Madeira,  sent  from  our  kinsman  in  En- 
gland," the  matron  went  on,  foroing  down  a  tremor 
in  her  voice,  "was  set  aside  from  my  wedding  day, 
to  be  drunk  at  the  first  marriage  of  the  next  gen- 
eration. Providence  ordained  that  it  should  be 
reserved  for  these  dear  children;  and  I  have  to 
thank  this  faithful  servant  that  it  escaped  the  rav- 
ages of  the — destroyer  of  most  things,  a  half-cen- 
tury of  time,"  she  finished,  with  one  quick  glance 
at  the  Federal  soldier.  "Ezekiel,  be  very  care- 
ful." 

''No!  Permit  me,  cousin!"  General  Calvert 
cried,  rising  with  the  elastic  bound  of  a  youth,  but 
a  courtly  bow  to  Mrs.  Pavanel.  "On  an  occasion 
like  this,  the  Calvert  wine  should  be  served  by  a 
Calvert!" 

With  the  pride  of  a  connoisseur,  but  the  tender- 
ness of  a  father  handling  his  first-born,  the  veteran 
took  the  cobwebbed  bottle  in  his  sinewy  hand. 
Deftly  he  inserted  the  massive  corkscrew — never 
changing  the  angle  of  the  neck,  but  bringing  out 
the  cork  without  sound  or  tremor.  Then  he 
passed  about  the  board  with  stately  grace,  filling 


216  CRAG-NE8T. 

each  glass,  and  standing  at  his  own  place  with  an- 
other profound  bow  to  his  lady,  as  he  said: 

"Cousin  Virginia,  our  glasses  are  filled!" 

Mrs.  Courtenay  rose  gravely,  and  with  her  rose 
each  guest.  A  soft  glow  was  on  her  cheeks;  and 
her  eyes,  for  once,  were  downcast  and  moist.  Her 
lips  trembled  slightly,  but  the  white,  blue-veined 
hand  steadily  lifted  the  brimming  glass,  as  she 
said: 

"My  children  and  friends,  our  overfull  hearts 
would  mock  the  effort  of  our  lips  to  speak  their 
feelings.  To  the  brides  and  groom^s!  May  Our 
Father  keep  them  to-day  and  forever!" 

In  eloquent  silence  each  glass  was  sipped;  two 
of  the  toasted  bravely  radiant  with  joy — two  of 
them  tremulous,  with  eyes  downcast  and  tear- 
suffused.  But  Buford — charmed  with  the  won- 
derful bouquet  of  the  rare  old  wine,  and  sipping  it 
slowly — suddenly  noted  the  pallor  of  the  woman 
at  his  side,  her  face  death-like,  above  the  severe 
black  dress.  Over  the  white  cheeks  rolled  two 
great  tears,  the  long  lashes  could  not  restrain; 
and  the  bosom  beneath  its  silken  restraint  seemed 
rent  by  a  will-repressed  sob.  Tactful  as  brave,  the 
Philadelphian  glanced  across  the  board,  but  not 
before  Valerie  had  slipped  her  hand  into  the 
other's  and  his  quick  ear  had  caught  the  almost 
soundless  whisper: 

"Ruth!     Sister!" 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAG-NEST.  217 

The  carriage  was  at  the  door;  the  ample,  old- 
time  family  coach,  with  age-dimmed  cushions, 
worn  paint  and  massive  silver  plates,  all  refreshed 
so  far  as  EzekiePs  loving  veneration  and  stiffened 
muscles  could  compass  that  feat.  Not  the  sleek 
and  prancing  steeds  of  former  times  drew  it;  but 
two  veterans  of  the  war,  now  translated  from 
squadron  or  battery,  to  better  bed  and  rack,  wore 
rather  loosely  the  massive  harness  of  "better 
days." 

But  neither  vehicle  nor  team  occupied  the 
thoughts  of  those  now  grouped  upon  the  broad 
steps,  engrossed  in  leave-taking;  the  bridal  couples 
read}^  for  departure  for  the  near  station. 

The  reddening  of  coming  sunset,  already  in  the 
sky  behind  the  Massanutten  peaks,  reflected  on 
faces  grave  and  pale — spite  of  brave  efforts  of  the 
hearts  behind  them.  The  two  young  girls  were 
close  held  in  the  venerable  arms  of  her  who  had 
been  friend,  almoner — mother  to  them,  all  those 
long  and  trying  years.  The  dark  lashes  and  the 
blonde  alike  glistened  with  tears,  that  would 
come;  only  the  eyes  of  the  old  lady  dry,  if  filled 
with  yearning  tenderness. 

"It  is  hard  to  send  you  away,  my  children,  even 
to  your  own  happiness,"  Mrs.  Courtenay  said  very 
gently,  as  her  arms  released  the  twain.  "Yet  it 
is  but  for 'a  little  while;  and  it  is  not  parting,  for 
you  will  always  be  present  in  these  rooms.      So, 


218  CMAO-NEST. 

take  the  old  woman's  blessing,  and  go  now  with 
those  who  have  the  better  claim." 

The  tender  but  nndimmed  eyes  turned  yearn- 
ingly toward  the  hallway — with  something  in 
them  like  that  last  look,  when  they  rode  aAvay, 
after  Opequon.  But  the  brave  lady  forced  her 
lips  to  smile,  as  she  added : 

"You  can  not  be  truants  long,  you  know;  for 
remember,  all  your  silver  saved  by  Ezekiel,  I  still 
hold  here." 

"We  will  be  back  so  soon.  Aunt  Virginia," 
Valerie  said  softly — "and  we  will  write  m 
often!" 

"And  you  must  not  feel  lonely,  auntie!"  Wythe 
cried,  an  April  smile  shining  through  the  mist 
in  her  eje^. 

"I  will  not  be  lonely,"  jMrs.  Courtenay  answered 
with  quiet  voice,  but  lips  that  trembled  slightly. 
"I  am  wholly  happy,  my  dears,  because  my  chil- 
dren are  so.  And  Sarah  lioutlege  will  remain 
with  her  old  schoolmate,  since  my  child  has  robbed 
her  of  hers.     And  this  dear  girl,  too." 

Her  arm  passed  gentl^^  about  the  waist  of  the 
other  stately  woman,  as  it  had  done  in  those  long- 
gone  days  of  school-girl  love,  in  the  North;  and 
the  other  slim  hand  firmly  clasped  that  of  the  pale 
young  widow,  whose  only  answer  was  a  peaceful 
smile. 

Hearty  hand  clasps  exchanged  by  the  men,  and 


THE  TORCH  AT  CRAd-NEST.  219 

last  adieiix  spoken,  Mrs.  Coiirtenay's  arms  were 
about  liOb  Maur^^'s  neck,  as  she  cried: 

"My  brave  boy!  I  can  well  trust  my  baby  with 
you! — and,  Fraser,  I  need  not  say,  what  you 
know!"  The  stately  head  bent  toward  him  and 
her  lips  pressed  the  broad  forehead  of  the  Carolin- 
ian— ''God  keep  you  all,  my  children!" 

She  turned  abruptly,  pacing  slowly  toward  the 
conservatory — ahme ! 

The  carriage  rolled  away,  crunching  the  gravel 
merrily.  After  it  dashed  Ezekiel,  with  new-found 
youth  and  a  recklessness  scarce  consonant  with 
his  grand  garb,  nigli  above  his  head  he  waved  a 
venerable  shoe,  hurling  it  after  the  carriage,  as  he 
cried : 

"Sen'  dem  luck,  Esther!" 

And  his  helpmeet  of  years — her  black  cheeks 
shiny  with  tears,  but  her  still  white  teeth  glisten- 
ing with  a  broad  grin — forgot  her  gorgeous  ban- 
dana turban  and  the  splendor  of  flowered  Dolly 
A^arden  cretonne,  as  she  skurried  after  him,  sail- 
ing tiny  but  worn  slii^pers  through  the  air  in  heart- 
felt "6o/«  royafjcP'' 

All  on  the  steps  stood  silent,  watching  the  car- 
riage beyond  the  turn,  as  the  negroes  trotted  back 
from  the  gate,  hand-in-hand.  No  word  was  spoken 
until  Mrs.  Courtenay  slowly  turned  and,  with 
quiet  step,  rejoined  them.  There  w^as  suspicious 
moisture  in  her  eyes  now;  but  her  voice  was  as 


220  CRAG-NEST. 

calm  as  gentle,  when,  again  passing  her  arm  about 
her  old  schoolmate,  she  said: 

''Sarah  Routlege,  we  live  our  youth  over  again 
in  our  children's  happiness!" 

"You  shame  the  bravery  of  us  old  soldiers, 
kinswoman!"  General  Calvert  cried  bluntly;  but 
tugging  at  his  grim  mustache  nervously.  "You 
have  always  been  a  true  Virginian;  but  now, 
zounds!  you  are  a  Roman!" 

"Rut  happil}^  not  assisting  at  a  sacrifice,"  Gen- 
eral Buford  added  graciously.  "Mrs.  Courtenay, 
I  can  not  find  words  to  thank  you  for  permitting 
me  to  share  the  joy  of  valued— friends!" 

"The  right  word,  Buford !"  the  Southern  soldier 
cried,  radiant  again  as  he  grasped  the  other's  hand. 
"You  and  I  have  seen  the  torch  glow  in  the  Valley. 
Thank  God!  We  are  spared  to  see  the  kindling  of 
the  torch  of  Peace — ^the  torch  of  Hymen!" 


THE    END. 


"  The  Prose  Epic  of  t/ie  Bloody  Confederate  Drama.'''' — Jas.  R.  Randall. 

Foui^Yeai^g  in  I^ebel  Gapitalg 

An  Inside  View  of  Social  Life  in  the  Confederacy  fkom 

Birth  to  Death  ;  from  Original  Notes  made  from 

18G1  to  1SG5. 


By  T.  C.  DeLEON. 

Author's  Autograph  Edition,  with  Prefatory  Sketch  by  L.  deV. 
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The  Puritan's  Daughter, 

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merit. 

Toledo  Bee :     Price,    25   cents ;    and    there   is   several   dollars' 
worth  of  amusement  in  it. 

Washingto7i  Gazette:     Mr.  DeLeon's  travesties  are  full  of  mirth, 
but  his  pen  is  caustic  when  it  takes  that  line. 

Brookly7i   Eagle:     Humorous   in  every   part,    with  much   dry 
sarcasm  at  society. 


Mailed  (prepaid)  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

THE  QOSSIP  PRINTING  CO., 

MOBILE,   ALA. 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


SGloop  liiat  Bump  OD  me  u 

An  Automatic  Tow  from 
"SHIPS  THAT  PASS  IN  THE  NIGHT." 


80  Pages,  paper,  11  fall-pa^c  Illustratioas,  after  the  Author's  Designs. 
Price,  25  Cents. 

Uiica  Herald:  Cleverly  twists  characters,  plot  and  style,  and 
is  good  medicine  for  melancholia. 

Nashville  Banner :  As  good  as  "Rock  or  the  Rye  "  and  per- 
fectly ludicrous  throughout,  revealing  a  laugh  in  every  detail. 

New  Orleans  Picayune :  Healthy  reading  for  all  who  are  in 
danger  of  the  drink  habit. 

Brooklyn  Citizen:  Makes  a  complete  story  that  has  more  true 
philosophy  of  life  than  the  one  it  travesties. 

Louisville  Times:  Mr.  DeLeon  is  never  more  at  home  than 
when  turning  the  laugh  on  some  serious  work.  In  this  case  he 
has  succeeded  to  a  marvel.     It  brims  over  with  fun. 

Chicago  Herald:  The  skit  is  humorous,  though  a  trifle  bitter. 
The  dialogues  are  funny,  as  are  the  reflections. 

St.  Paul  Dispatch:  Unlike  the  "  Rock  or  the  Rye,"  this  treats 
not  of  one  subject,  but  of  many.  It  is  a  complete  and  funny 
story,  and  a  triple  burlesque. 


Mailed  ( prepaid )  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

THE  GOSSIP  PRINTING  CO., 

MOBILE,    ALA. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
341 


